Full text of "Christ and the inheritance of the saints"

See other formats

mi:

,^-J

LIBRARY

OF THE

University of California.

.!»... I:

GIKT OK

Y.M.C.A.OF U.C.

Accession 1Q1762 . Class

GEORGE :WELLS : ARMES
MEMORIAL LIBRARY + + +
STiLES HALL BERKELEY

Digitized by tine Internet Archive

in 2008 with funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.archive.org/details/christinheritancOOguthrich

CHRIST

INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS.

WORKS BY THOMAS GUTHRIE, D. D.

THE GOSPia IN EZEKTEL.

ILLirSTBATED IN A SERIES OF DI800UB8E8. |1 00.

"The theology of tlils admirable volume resembles the language in which it ia
embodied ; It is the theology of the old school — direct, simple, forcible, not sheathed
In clouds of ingenious speculation, but bearing in every page the clear impress of
the New Testament While the eloquence and poetry in which it is set will scarce
fall to secure the suffrages of the most fastidious, its own inherent power and sim-
plicity will carry it with acceptance into many a humble homestead, and attract
deeply attentive circles around many a cottage hearth/' — Hugh 3IiUer.

" To our friends south of the Scottish Border, who do not know Dr. Guthrie, we
Bay, Procure this volume and read It, and you will feel that you have made the ac-
quaintance of a man whom it were worth while to go some distance to see."— 5rif-
Uh Quarterli/ Remew.

"Nothing has appeared since the publication of Chalmers' 'Astronomical Dis-
eourses' to be compared with this Inimitable volume of ' prose-poems.' It contains
the finest specimen of pulpit literature the age has produced."— 5/"i^i«A Messenger.

THE CITY, ITS SINS AND SORROWS.

A. SKSIE8 OF DISCOTTBaKS FROM LUKB XIX. 41. 80 CENTS.

"Though as critics wo might take exception to these Sermons, regarded simply
as written compositions, we can have no hesitation In declaring that, for rending
aloud (fhe true use of a sermon,) they are the most effective specimens of pulpit or-
atory that we have lately seen.*'

"To clergy and laity alike we can very cordially recommend those sermons on
city life, as tending to elevate the mind, to enlarge the sympathies, and to deepen
the sense of responsibility, while the ImaglnatloQ Is charmed, and the time
quickly away." — 7%e London Times.

CHRIST AND THE INHERITANCE OF THFv SAINTS.

13mo. $1 00.

(ii)

CHEIST

AND THE

INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS

ILLUSTRATED IN A SERIES OF DISCOURSES
FROM THE COLOSSIANS.

THOMAS GUTHRIE, D. D.,

AUTHOR OF "THB gospel IN EZEKIKL," " TITE CITT, ITS SINS AND SOBROWS,"
WU, BTO,

s^ :\ ^i y-'^.

NEW YORK :
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,

No. 680 BROADWAY.
1859.

KDWARD O. JENKINS

Iprinttr it Sttrrotsprr.
No. 26 Fbankfort STKRrr.

TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

FOX LORD PANMURE, K.T., G.C.B.

AS AN EXPRESSION OP RESPECT

FOR

SERVICES RENDERED TO THE RELIGIOUS AND PUBLIC
INTERESTS OF THE COUNTRY,

AND OP

GRATITUDE FOR HIS ^CONSTANT FRIENDSHIP TO
THE AUTHOR.

Edinhxtboh, Moykubkr, 1858.

101762

DISCOURSES.

L-

-THE INHERITANCE ....

PAOB

IL-

-THE POWER OF DARKNESS

III.-

-THE POWER OF DARKNESS -con^m?^

ly.-

-THE KINGDOM OP CHRIST .

Y.-

-THE KINGDOM OF CRm^T— continued

VI.-

-THE TRANSLATION ....

YII.-

-REDEMPTION

110

\riIL-

-CHRIST TIIK REDEEMER .

. 126

IX.-

-THE IMAGE OF GOD ....

. 143

X-

-THE IMAGE OF GOD— coniinmi .

. 150

XI.-

-THE FIRST.BORN ....

. 176

XTT-

-THE CREATOR

. 192

XIII.-

-THE END OF CREATION

. 206

XIY.

-CHRIST IN PROYIDENCE .

. 822

XV.-

-TPIE HEAD . . . . ,

. 240

XYL-

-THE IlEAB—continued

. 258

VI 11 CONTENTS.

PAOB

XVII.— THE BEGINNING 270

XYIII.-TIIE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD . .201

XIX.— THE FULLNESS 307

XX.-THE RECONCILER B2r,

♦ .

y'l- :^'

Griving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partak-
ers of the inheritance of the saints in light. — Colossians i. 12.

One thini^' is often set against another in the expe-
rience of the Christian ; and also in the every-day
procedure of the providence of God. So fared it with
Jacob that niglit he slept in Bethel. A stone was his
pillow, and the cold hard ground his bed ; yet, while
sleep sealed his eyelids, he had God himself to guard
his low-laid head, and dreams such as seldom bless a
couch of down. A ladder rose before him in the vision
of the night. It rested on earth, and reached to the
stars. And forming a highway for a multitude of angels,
who ascended and descended in two dazzling streams
of light it stood there the bright sign of a redemption
which has restored the intercourse between earth and
heaven, and opened a path for our return to God.

Now, the scheme of salvation, of which that ladder
was a glorious emblem, may be traversed in either of
these two ways. In studying it, we may descend by
the steps that lead from the cause to the consumma-
tion, or, taking the opposite course, we may rise from
the consummation to the cause. So — as a matter
eometimes of taste, sometimes of judgment — men do
1 (1)

2 THE INHERITANCE.

in other departments of study. The geographer for
example, may follow a river from the lone mountain-
tops where its waters spring, down into the glen, into
which, eager to leave sterility behind, it leaps with a
joyous bound ; and from thence, after resting awhile
in black, deep, swirling pool, resumes its way, here
spreading itself out in glassy lake, or there winding like
a silver serpent through flowery meadows ; until forcing
a passage tlirough some rocky gorge, it sweeps out
into the plain, to pursue, 'mid shady woods and by
lordly tower, through corn-fields, by smiling villaffe«
and busy towns, a course that, like the life of man,
grows calmer as it nears its end. Or, starting from the
sea-beach, he may trace the river upwards ; till, passing
town and church, tower and mill, scattered hamlet and
solitary sliepherd's cot, in some mossy w^ell, where
the wild deer drink, or mountain rock beneath the
eagle's nest, lie finds the place of its birth. The bota-
nist, too, who describes a tree, may begin with its fruit ;
and from this, whether husky shell, or rugged cone, oi
clustering berry, he may pass to the flower ; from tliat
to the buds ; from those to the branches ; from the
branches to the stem ; and from the stem into the
ground, where he lays bare the wide-spread roots, on
which — as states depend upon the humbler classes for
power, wealth, and worth — the tree depends both for
nourishment and support. Or, reversing the plan, with
^ equal justice to his subject, and advantage to his pupils,
he may begin at the root and end with the fruit.
. The inspired writers, in setting forth salvation,
adopt sometimes the one course, and sometimes the
other. With Paul, for instance, the subject of heaven
now introduces Christ, and now from Christ, the Apos-
tle turns to expatiate on the joy?, of heaven. Here, as

THE INHERITANCE. 8

on an angel's wing that sheds light on every step, we
see him ascending, and there descending the ladder.
Taking flight from the cross, he soars upward to the
crown ; and now, like an eagle sweeping doAvn from
the bosom of a golden cloud, he leaves the throne of
the Redeemer to alight on the heights of Calvary. As
an example of the ascending method, we have that
well-known passage in his epistle to the Romans —
" For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate
to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might
be the first-born among many brethren : moreover,
whom he did predestinate, them he also called ; and
whom he called, them he also justified ; and whom he
justified, them he also glorified." There we pass from
the root to the fruit, from the cause, step by step, to
its efi'ects ; here again, Paul guides us upAvard along
the stream of blessings to their perennial fountain.
He first shows the precious gift, and then reveals the
gracious giver ; the purchase first, and afterwards the
divine Purchaser. From the crown of glory, flashing
on the brow of a Magdalene, he turns our dazzled
eyes to another crown, a trophy hung upon a cross ; a
wreath of thorns, armed with long sharp spikes — each,
in place of a pearly gem, tipped with a drop of blood.
He first introduces us to lieaven as our inalienable heri-
tage, and then to the throne and person of him who
won heaven for us. He conducts us up to Jesus, tliat
we may fall at his feet with adoring gratitude, and join
in spirit the saintly throng Avho dwell in the full frui-
tion of his presence, and praise him throughout eternity.
The words of my text, and those also of tlie verse
which follows it, are introductory to a sublime descrip-
tion of Jesus Christ — a picture to which, after consid-
ering these preliminary verses, we intend to draw your

4 THE INHERITANCE.

attention. To the eye both of saints and sinners it
presents a noble subject. If his great forerunner felt
himself unworthy even to loose the latch et of his shoes,
how unworthy are these hands to sustain a theme so
sacred and sublime. May he who ordaineth strength
"out of the mouth of babes and sucklings," without
whose aid the strongest are weak, and by whose help
the weakest are strong, fulfil among us his own great
and gracious promise — " I, if I be lifted up from the
earth, will draw all men unto me ! "

Turning your attention, meanwhile, to the matter of
these introductory verses, I remark —

I. Heaven is an Inheritance.

Examples, at once of pride and poverty — how prone
are men to attach importance to their own works, and
to seek at least some shining points of goodness in
them — like grains of gold in a mass of rock ! We are
loth to believe that those things for which others
esteem and love, and praise us, and even, perhaps,
crown our brows with laurel, apart from Christ, have
no merit ; but appear in the sight of the holy and
heart-searching God as, to use a Bible phrase, " filthy
rags." It is not easy to bring human pride, no, nor
human reason, to admit that ; to believe that the love-
liest, the purest, the most virtuous of womankind, a
mother's pride and a household's honor, must be saved,
as tlie vilest outcast is saved — as a brand plucked out
of the fire, or he of whom God said, " Take away tlic
filthy garments from him. Behold I have caused tliine
iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with
change of raiment."

These feelings arise in part, perhaps, from a secret
Buspicion, tliat, if our works be entirely destitute of

THE INHERITANCE. 5

merit, they must at the same time disincline God to
save us, and disqualify us for being saved. But how
base, unscriptural, God-dishonoring is this fear ! One
would think that the parable of the prodigal had been
invented to refute it. There, recognizing him from
afar, God, under the emblem of an earthly father, runs
to embrace his son, all foul and ragged as he is ; he
holds him in his arms ; he drowns his confession in
this great cry of joy, " Bring forth the best robe, and
put it on him ; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes
on his feet ; and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill
it ; and let us eat, and be merry : for this my son was
dead, and is alive again ; he was lost, and is found."
Nature herself proves it false by every little child who
lifts its hands and prayer to God as " Our Father which
art in heaven." What idea has he formed of God who
expects less of him than he would expect of any earthly
mother ? Let her be a queen. She is a mother ; and
under the impulse of feelings that reign alike in palaces
and in cottages, how would that woman spring from
her throne to embrace a lost babe ; and, weeping tears
of joy, press it to her jewelled bosom, though plucked
from the foulest ditch, and wrapped in tainted rags ?
He knows little of human nature, fallen as i.t is, who
fancies any mother turning from the plaintive cry and
imploring arms of her offspring because, forsooth, it
was restored to her in loathsome attire. And he is
still more ignorant of "the God and Father of our
Lord Jesus Christ" who fancies that, unless man can
make out some merit, he will receive no mercy. Blessed
be his name, " God commendeth his love toward us, in
that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."

Yolumes of theology have been written, and long
controversies have waxed hot, about the question —

6 THE INHERITANCE. ^

whether heaven is, or is not, in part, the reward of
our own good works ? Now it appears to me that
there is one word in my text, whose voice authorita-
tively and summarily settles that matter ; and would
have always settled it, had not men's hearts been fired
with angry passions, and their ears confused with the
din of battle. That word is — inheritance. What is
inheritance ? The pay of a soldier is not inheritance ;
neither are the fees of a lawyer or of a physician ; nor
the gains of trade ; nor the wages of labor. Rewards
of toil or skill, these are earned by the hands that
receive them. What is inherited, on the other hand,
may be the property of a new-born babe ; and so you
may see the coronet, which was won by the stout arm
of valor, and first blazoned on a battered shield, stand-
ing above the cradle of a wailing infant. True, the
ample estate, the noble rank, the hereditary honors
were won. But they that won them are long dead ;
" their swords are rust, their bodies dust ; " and under-
neath tattered banners, once borne before them in
bloody fight, but now hung high in the house of God,
the grim old barons sleep in their marble tombs. The
rewards of their prowess and patriotism have de-
scended to their successors ; who, holding these, enjoy
honors and estates, which we do not grudge them, but
which their wealth never bought, and their courage
never won.

Thus the saints hold heaven. In the terms of a
court of law, it is theirs, not by conquest, but by herit-
age. Won by another arm than theirs, it presents the
strongest imaginable contrast to the spectacle seen in
England's palace that day when the king demanded to
know of his assembled nobles, by what title they held
their lands ? " What title ? " At the rash question a

m..

THE INHERITANCE.

hundred swords leapt from their scabbards. Advan-
cing on the alarmed monarch — "By these," they re-
plied, "we won, and by these we will keep them."
How different the scene which heaven presents ! All
eyes are fixed on Jesus ; every look is love ; gratitude
glows in every bosom, and swells in every song ; now
with golden harps they sound the Saviour's praise ; and
now, descending from their thrones to do him homage,
they cast their crowns in one glittering heap at the
feet which were nailed on Calvary. Look there, and
learn in whose name to seek salvation, and through
whose merits to hope for it. For the faith of earth
is just a reflection of the fervors of heaven : this the
language of both — " Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us,
but unto thy name give glory."

11. Heaven is a heritage of free grace. We have
no such legal claim to heavenly glory as may be estab-
lished to some earthly inheritance. In consequence
of a distant relationship, in those sudden turns of the
wheel of fortune, which — displaying the providence of
Him who abases the proud and exalts the humble —
throw one family into the dust, and another into the
possession of unexpected riches, the heir of noble titles
and broad lands has started up from the deepest obscu-
rity. And so I have seen a man come into a court of
law, and, producing some old moth-eaten Bible, with
its time-worn record of births, and marriages, and
deaths, all long ago forgotten, or some damp, musty
parchment, or some inscription copied from a burial-
stone, which the dispute has redeemed from decay and
rank church-yard weeds, lay a firm hand on estates
and honors won long centuries ago. Such strange
events have happened. Heirs have entered on the

8 THE IXHERITAXCE.

property of those between whom and them there ex-
isted no acquaintanceship, nor friendship, nor fellow-
ship ; for whom, in fact, they entertained no regard
while they lived, and whose memory they neither
cherish in warm hearts, nor preserve in cold brass or
marble. But it. is by no such obscure connection or
remote relationship, that " the inheritance of the saints
in light " becomes ours. We are constituted its heirs
by virtue of sonship ; we, who were once afar off — the
seed of the serpent, the children of the devil, the chil-
dren of wrath even as others — becoming sons by that
act of grace, which has led many to exclaim with John,
" Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed
upon us, that we should be called the sons of God."

Thus heaven, presenting itself to us in one of its
most engaging aspects, is not only an inheritance, but
a home. Oh ! how sweet that word ! What beautiful
and tender associations cluster thick around it ! Com-
pared with it, house, mansion, palace, are cold heart-
less terms. But home ! that word quickens the pulse,
warms the heart, stirs the soul to its depths, makes age
feel young again, rouses apathy into energy, sustains
the sailor on his midnight watch, inspires the soldier
Avith courage on the field of battle, and imparts patient
endurance to the worn-down sons of toil ! The thought
of it has proved a sevenfold shield to virtue ; the very
name of it has been a spell to call back the wanderer
from the paths of vice ; and, far away, where myrtles
bloom and palm trees wave, and the ocean sleeps upon
coral strands, to the exile's fond fancy it clothes the
naked rock or stormy shore, or barren moor, or wild
Highland mountain, with charms he weeps to think of,
and longs once more to see. Grace sanctifies these
lovely affections, and imparts a sacredness to |he homes

THE INHERITANCE. 9

of earth by making them types of heaven. As a home
the believer delights to think of it. Thus when, lately
bending over a dying saint, and expressing our sorrow
to see him laid so low, with the radiant countenance
rather of one who had just left heaven, than of one
about to enter it, he raised and clasped his hands, and
exclaimed in ecstasy, " I am going liomeJ^ Happy the
family of which God is the father, Jesus the elder bro-
ther, and all the "saints in light" are brethren —
brethren born of one Spirit ; nursed at the full breast
of the same promises ; trained in the same high school
of heavenly discipline ; seated at the same table ; and
gathered all where the innocent loves of earth are not
quenched, but purified ; not destroyed, but refined !
To that family circle every accession forms a subject
of gratitude and praise ; and every new-comer receives
such welcome as a mother, while she falls on his manly
breast, gives her son, or as sisters, locked in his arms,
with theirs entwined around him, give the brother
whom they have got safe back from wreck and storm,
or the bloody fields of war. So when, on returning
home after weary journeys and a tedious absence, we
have found that the whole household was moved, and
that all, down even to the tottering babe, with out-
stretched hands, and beaming faces, and joyful wel-
comes, were at the door to meet us, we have thought,
it shall be thus at the gates of glory. What a meeting
there of parents and children, brothers and sisters, and
death-divided friends ! What mutual gratulations !
What overflowing joy I And, when they have led our
spirit up through the long line of loving angels to the
throne, what happiness to see Jesus, and get our warm-
est welcome from the lips of him who redeemed us by
his blood, and, in the agonies of his cross, suffered for
1^

10 THE INHERITANCE.

US more than a mother's pangs — " the travail of his
soul/'

Heir of grace ! thy estate lies there. Child of God !
thy Father, and Saviour, and brethren, and sisters, are
there. Pilgrim to Sion, be ever pressing on and ever
looking up 1 thy true home is there ; a home above
these blue skies, above sun and stars ; a sweet, saintly,
glorious home — whose rest shall be all the sweeter for
the pelting of the storm, thy rugged path, the sorrows
and the tears of earth — and whose light shall be all the
brighter for that " valley of the shadow of death," from
which thou shalt pass into the blaze of everlasting day.
Believer ! 1 congratulate thee on thy prospects. Lift
up thy cast-down head ; let thy port, man, be worthy
of thy coming fortunes. Bear thyself as one who shall
wear a holy crown ; as one who, however humble thy
present lot, is training for the highest society. Culti-
vate the temper, and acquire the manners, and learn
the language of heaven ; nor let the wealth or poverty,
the joys or sorrows, the shame or honors of thy earthly
state, ever make thee forget " the inheritance which is
incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away,
reserved in heaven for you."

III. The heirs of heaven require to be made meet
for the inheritance.

I knew a man who had amassed great wealth, but
had no children to inherit it. He lost the opportunity,
which one would think good men would more frequently
embrace, of leaving Christ his heir, and bequeathing to
the cause of religion what he could not carry away.
Smitten, however, with the vain and strange propensity
to found a house, or make a family, as it is called, he
ieft his riches to a distant relative. His successor

THE INHERITANCE. 11

found himself suddenly raised from poverty to affluence,
and thrown into a position which he had not been
trained to fill. He was cast into the society of those to
whose tastes, and habits, and accomplishments he was
an utter and an awkward stranger. Did many envy
this child of fortune ? They might have spared their
envy. Left in his original obscurity he had been a
happy peasant, whistling his way home from the plough
to a thatch-roofed cottage, or on winter nights, and
around the blazing faggots, laughing loud and merry
among unpolished boors. Child of misfortune! he
buried his happiness in the grave of his benefactor.
Neither qualified by nature, nor fitted by education, for
his position, he was separated from his old, only to be
despised by his new associates. And how bitterly was
he disappointed to find, that, in exchanging poverty for
opulence, daily toil for luxurious indolence, humble
friends for more distinguished companions, a hard bed
for one of down, this turn in his fortunes had flung him
on a couch, not of roses, but of tliorns ! In his case,
the hopes of the living and the intentions of the dead
were alike frustrated. The prize had proved a blank ;
a necessary result of this fatal oversight, that the heir
had not been made meet for the inheritance.

Is such training needful for an earthly estate ? How
much more for the " inheritance of the saints in light ! "
" Except a man be born again, he cannot see the king-
dom of God." No change to a condition however
lofty — no elevation from the lowest obscurity to the'
highest honor, from abject poverty to the greatest
affluence, adequately represents the difference between
the state of sin in which grace finds us, and the state
of glory to which it raises us. The most ignorant and
debased of our city outcasts, th§ most wretched and

IJ THE INHERITANCE.

loathsome wanderer of these streets, is not so unfit to
be received into the holy bosom of a Christian family,
as you are, by nature, to be received into the kingdom
of heaven. A sinner there were more out of place
than a ragged beggar in a royal palace, where, all
gazing at his appearance with astonishment, and shrink-
ing back from his defiling touch, he rudely thrusts
himself within the brilliant circle. Compared with
the difi'erence between a man, as grace finds him, and
heaven gets him, how feeble are all earthly distinctions !
They sink into nothing. So unheavenly, in truth, is
our nature, that unless we were made meet for the
inheritance, we were no honor to it, nor were it any
happiness to us.

What, for instance, were the most tempting banquet,
to one without appetite, sick, loathing the very sight
and smell of food ? To a man stone-deaf, what the
boldest blast of trumpet, the roll of drums, stirring the
soldier's soul to deeds of daring valor, or the finest
music that ever fell on charmed ear, and seemed to
bear the spirit on its waves of sound up to the gates
of heaven? Or what, to one stone-blind, a scene to
which beauty has lent its charms, and sublimity its
grandeur — the valley clad in a many-colored robe of
flowers, the gleaming lake, the flashing cascade, the
foaming torrent, the dark-climbing forest, the brave
trees that cling to the frowning crags, the rocky pin-
nacles, and, high over all, hoary winter looking down
on summer from lier throne on the Alps' untrodden
Bnows? Just what heaven would be to man with his
ruined nature, his low passions, and his dark guilty
conscience. Incapable of appreciating its holy beauties,
of enjoying its holy happiness, he would find nothing
there to delight his senses. How he would wonder in

THE INHERITANCE. 13

what its pleasures lay ; and, supposing him once there,
were there a place of safety out of it, how he would
long to be away, and keep his eye on the gate to watch
its opening, and escape as from a doleful prison ! Such
an inheritance were to such a man like the gift of a
noble library to a plumed, painted savage. As, igno-
rant of letters, he stalked from hall to hall amid the
wisdom of bygone ages, and rolled his restless eyes
over the unappreciated treasures, how he would sigh
to be back to his native forests, wliere he might sit
among his tribe at the council-fire, or raise his war-
whoop, or hunt down the deer ! People talk strangely
of going to heaven when they die ; but what gratifica-
tion could it possibly afford a man whose enjoyments
are of a sensuous or sensual nature — whose only plea-
sure lies in the acquisition of worldly objects, or the
gratification of brutal appetites ? You hope to go to
heaven ! I hope you will. But, unless your heart is
sanctified and renewed, what were heaven to you ? an
abhorrent vacuum. The day that took you there would
end all enjoyment, and throw you, a castaway, upon a
solitude more lonely than a desert island. Neither
angels nor saints would seek your company, nor would
you seek theirs. Unable to join in their hallowed
employments, to sympathise with, or even to understand
their holy joys, you would feel more desolate in heaven
than we have done in tlie heart of a great city, without
one friend, jostled by crowds, but crowds who spoke a
language we did not understand, and were aliens alike
in dress and manners, in language, blood, and faith.

It is the curse of vice, that, where its desires outlive
the power of gratification, or are denied the opportunity
of indulgence, they become a punishment and a torment.
Denied all opportunity of indulgence, what would a

14 THE INHERITANGE.

drunkard do in heaven ? Or a glutton ? Or a volup-
tuary ? Or an ambitious man ? Or a worldling ? one
whose soul lies buried in a heap of gold? Or she,
who, neglecting quite as much the noble purposes of
her being, flits, life through, a painted butterfly, from
flower to flower of pleasure, and wastes the day of grace
in the idolatry and adornment of a form which death
shall change into utter loathsomeness, and the grave
into a heap of dust ? These would hear no sounds of
ecstasy, would see no brightness, would smell no per-
fumes, in paradise. But, weeping and wringing their
hands, they would wander up and down the golden
streets to bewail their death, crying — "The days have
come in which we have no pleasure in them." On that
eternal Sabbath — from which nor fields, nor news, nor
business would afford escape — what would they do,
who hear no music in church bells, and say of holy
services, "When will they be over?" Oh, the slow,
weary march of the hours of never-ending Sabbath
devotions! Oh, the painful glare of a never-setting
Sabbath sun ! Than go down to hell, than perish in
the coming storm, they would turn their prow to
heaven ; but only as the last refuge of a sinking bark —
a safe, it may be, but yet a friendless shore. Unlike
the happy swallows which David envied, thy altar,
0 God, is the very last spot where many would choose
to build their nests !

Such is by nature the disposition of all of us. " The
heart is desperately wicked." " The carnal mind" has
an aversion to spiritual duties, and an utter distaste for
spiritual enjoyments. Nor is that all the truth. How-
ever it may lie concealed, like a worm in the bud, " the
carnal mind is enmity against God." Illustrating the
familiar adage, " out of sight, out of mind," this feeling

THE INHERITANCE. 15

may lie dormant so long as our enemy is unseen. But,
let him appear, and his presence opens every old wound
afresh, and fans the smoldering enmity into flame.
Therefore, the heaven that purifies the saint would but
exasperate the hatred of the sinner ; and the more
God's holiness and glory were revealed, the more would
this enmity be developed — just as the thicker the dews
fall on decaying timber, the faster the timber rots ; and
the more full the sunshine on a noxious plant, the more
pestilent its juices grow. It is not in polar regions,
where the day is night, and the showers are snow, and
the rivers are moving ice, and slanting sunbeams fall
faint and feeble, but in the climes where flowers are
fairest, and fruits are sweetest, and fullest sunshine
warms the air and lights a cloudless sky, that nature
prepares her deadliest poisons. There the snake sounds
its ominous rattle, and the venemous cobra lifts her
hood. Even so sin, could it strike root in heaven,
would grow more rankly, more hating and more hateful
than on earth, and man would cast on God an eye of
deeper and intenser enmity.

Hence the need of being made, by a change of heart,
new creatures in Jesus Christ. Hence, also, the need,
which by reason of indwelling and remaining corrup-
tion, even God's people daily feel, of getting, with a
title to the heavenly inheritance, a greater meetness
for it. In other words, you must be sanctified as well
as saved. This work, so necessary, as we have seen, in
the very nature of things, has been assigned to tlic
Holy Spirit. It was the office of the Son to purchase
heaven for the heirs. And it is the office of the Spirit
to prepare the heirs for heaven. Thus renewed, puri-
fied, and at length wholly sanctified, we shall carry a
holy nature to a holy place, and be presented " faultless,

16 THE INHERITANCE.

before the presence of his glory, with exceeding joy/'
But observe, more particularly,

IV. As heaven is the gift of God, our meetness for
it is the work of God.

In my text, the apostle calls for thanks unto the
Father. For by whatever instruments God executes
his work, whether the means he uses to sanctify his
people be dead books, or living ministers, be sweet or
severe, common or striking providences, the work is
not theirs, but his. Owing him, then, no less praise
for the Spirit who makes us meet for the inheritance,
than for the Son who purchased it, we give thanks to
God. The church weaves the three names into one
doxology, singing, " Glory be to the Father, and to
the Son, and to the Holy Ghost."

Let me illustrate this point by a reference to the
case of Lazarus. On the day when he was raised froni
the dead, Lazarus had two things to thank Christ for.
His gratitude was due for what Jesus did without
human instrumentality, and also for what he did by it ;
both for the " Lazarus come forth ! " that rent the
grave, and for the " Loose him and let him go I " that
rent the grave-clothes ; not only for life, but for the
liberty without which life had been a doubtful blessing.
Doubtful blessing I What enjoyment had there been
in life so long as the face-cloth was left on his eyes,
and his limbs were bound fast in the cerements of the
tomb ? He emerges from the grave's black mouth a
living, yet a startling, hideous object, from whose ap-
palling form the crowd reels back, and terror-stricken
sisters might be excused for shrinking. Shrouded like
a corpse, smelling of the noisome grave, with the yellow
linen muffling eyes and mouth, every door had been

THE IXHEKITANCE. 17

shut against him, and the streets of Bethany cleared of
flying crowds by such a frightful apparition. Who
would hav-e sat beside him at the feast ? Who would
have worshiped with him in the synagogue ? A public
terror, shunned by his dearest friends, to him life
had been no boon ; but a burden — a heavy load from
which he had sought relief, where many a weary one
has found it, in the deep oblivion of the tomb. Had
Christ done no more than bid Lazarus live, I can fancy
his unhappy friend imploring him to resume the gift,
saying. Take it back ; let me return to the quiet grave ;
the dead will not shun me ; and I shall say to corrup-
tion, " Thou art my father ; and to the worm. Thou
art my mother and my sister."

In these circumstances, the conduct of our Lord
illustrates that grace which, in whomsoever it begins
a good work, will carry it on to the day of the Lord
Jesus. Pointing to Lazarus — who was, perhaps, en-
deavoring at that moment, like a newly-awakened
sinner, to fling off his shroud, and be free — he addresses
the spectators, saying, " Loose him, and let him go ! "
And thus God deals with renewed souls. Liberty
follows life. To His Holy Spirit, and, in a subordinate
sense, to providence in its dealings, to ministers in the
pulpit, to parents, teachers, and all other human instru-
ments, he says. Undo the bonds of sin — loose them, and
let them go !

Now, to bring the subject home, have we not merely
fancied, but have we felt, have we solid scriptural
ground for believing, that the same spiril-freeing words
have been spoken of us ? Have we been freed from
habits that were to us as grave-clothes ? And, emanci-
pated from passions which once enslaved us, are we
now, at least in some measure, doing what David under-

18 THE INHERITANCE.

took, when he said, " I will run the way of Thy com-
mandments, when Thou shalt enlarge my heart ? " In
growing holiness — in heavenly desires that, flame-like,
shoot upward to the skies — in godly resolutions that
aim at, if they do not always attain, a lofty mark — " in
the lust of the flesh," and the " pride of life," nailed to
a cross where, if not yet dead, they are dying daily —
in holy sorrows that, like a summer cloud, while tliey
discharge their burden in tears, are spanned by a bow
of hope — in longings that aspire after a purer state and
a better land — in these things have you at once the
pledge of heaven and the meetness for it ? If so, " this
is the Lord's doing ; it is marvelous in our eyes."
As delightful as marvelous 1 What joy, what peace
should it impart to the hearts of those who, feeling
themselves less than the least of God's mercies, un-
worthy of a crust of bread or of a cup of water, hail in
these the bright tokens of a blood-bought crown — that
coming event which casts its shadow before !

But if, without this meetness, you are indulging the
hope that, when you die, you will succeed to the inheri-
tance—ah ! how shall the event, the dreadful reality,
undeceive you I Ponder these words, I pray you,
" Without holiness, no man shall see the Lord," " With-
out are dogs," " There shall in no wise enter into it
anything that defileth, neither wliatsoever worketh
abomination, or maketh a lie ; but they wliich are
written in the Lamb's book of life." Let no man delude
himself; or believe tliat cunning devil, who— unlike
the ugly toad that, seated squat by tlie ear of Eve,
filled her troubled mind with horrid dreams — hovers
over him in the form of a benignant angel, charming
away his fears with " peace, pea ^o, when there is no
peace." Believe me, that the only proof that God has

THE INHERITANCE. 19

chosen us is, that we have choseii him. The distin-
guishing mark of heirs is some degree of meetness for
the heirship. In saints, the spirit is willing even when
the flesh is weak ; the body lags behind the soul ; the
affections outrun the feet ; and the desires of those who
are bound for heaven, are often far on the road before
themselves. By these signs thou may est know thyself.
Can you stand that touchstone ?

Ere autumn has tinted the woodlands, or the corn-
fields are falling to the reaper's song, or hoary hill-tops,
like gray hairs on an aged head, give warning of
winter's approach, I have seen fne swallow's brood
pruning their feathers, and putting their long wings to
the proof ; and, though they might return to their nests
in the window-eaves, or alight again on the house-tops,
they darted away in the direction of sunny lands.
Thus they showed that they were birds bound for a
foreign clime, and that the period of their migration
from the scene of their birth was nigh at hand. Grace
also has its prognostics. They aro infallible as those
of nature. So, when the soul, filled with longings to
be gone, is often darting away to glory, and, soaring
upward, rises on the wings of faith, till this great world,
from her sublime elevation, looks a little thing, God's
people know that they have the earnest of the Spirit.
These are the pledges of heaven — a sure sign that their
"redemption draweth nigh." Such devout feelings
afford the most blessed evidence tiiat, with Christ by
the helm, and "the wind," that "bloweth where it
listeth," in our swelling sails, we are drawing nigh to
the land that is afar off ; even as the reeds, and leaves,
and fruits that float upon the briny waves, as the birds
of strange and gorgeous plumage that fly round his
ship and alight upon its yards, as the sweet-scented

20 THE IXHERITANCE.

odors which the wind wafts out to sea, assure the weary
mariner that, ere long, he shall drop his anch^^r, and
end his voyage in the desired haven.

Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness.— Colossians i. 13.

The stories of subterranean caves, where brilliant
diamonds, thickly studding vaulted roof and fretted
walls, supply the place of lamps, are fancies — child-
hood's fairy-tales. Incredible as it may appear to
ignorance, on whose admiring eyes it flashes rays of
light, science proves that the diamond is formed of the
very same matter as common, dull, black coal. It
boasts no native light ; and dark in the darkness as
the mud or rock where it lies imbedded, it shines if
with a beautiful, yet with a borrowed splendor. How
meet an emblem of the jewels that adorn the Saviour's
crown I

Besides, like many a gem of man and woman kind,
the diamond is of humble origin. Its native state is
mean. It lies buried in the deep bowels of the earth ;
and in that condition is almost as unfit to form a grace-
ful ornament, as the stones that pave our highways, as
the rudest pebble which ocean, in her play, rolls upon
the beach. Unlike many other crystals, it is foul,
encrusted with dirt, and inelegant in form— flashing
with none of that matchless lustre which makes it after-
wards appear more like a fragment struck from star or
sun, than a product of this dull, cold world. That it
may glow, and sparkle, and burn with many-colored
fires, and change into a thing of beauty, it has to
undergo a rough, and, had it our sensibilities of nerve

(21)

22 THE POWER OF DAJiKNESS.

and life, a painful process. The lapidary receives it
from the miner ; nor, till he has ground the stone on
his flying wheel, and polislicd it with its own dust, does
it pass into the hands of the jeweller to be set in a
golden crown, or become the brightest ornament of
female loveliness. Through a corresponding prepara-
tion Christ's saints have to go. Are you saved ? you
have to be sanctitsd. Are you redeemed ? you have
to be renewed. You are polluted, and require to be
purified ; and, as all know who have experienced it, at
a great cost of paiu and self-denial, sin has to be erad-
icated^— utterly destroyed ; in respect of its dominant
power, cast out. This fulfils the prayer, " The very
God of peace sanctify you wholly ; " and for this, as
forming that meetness for the inheritance, which was
the subject of my last address, the saints are now either
ofi'ering up prayer on earth, or, better far, praise and
thanks in heaven.

But as the gem, ere it is polished, must be brouglit
from the mine and its naturally base condition, so, ere
those whom Christ has redeemed with his blood can be
sanctified by his Spirit, they must be called and con-
verted ; they must be brought into a new condition ;
or, in the words of my text, " delivered from the power
of darkness," and " translated into the kingdom of
God's dear Son." This, which is the subject before us
now, calls our attention to the greatest of all changes.
I say the greatest • one even greater than the marvel-
ous transition which takes place at the instant of
death — from dying struggles to the glories of the skies.
Because, while heaven is the day of which grace is the
dawn ; the ricli, ripe, fruit of which grace is the lovely
flower ; the inner chrine of tliat most glorious temple
to which grace forms the approach and outer court, —

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 23

in passing from nature to grace you did not pass from
a lower to a higher stage of tlie same condition — from
daybreak to sunshine, but from darkest night to dawn
of day. Unlike the worm which changes into a winged
insect, or the infant who grows up into a stately man,
you became, not a more perfect, but " a 7iew creature "
in Jesus Christ. And with deepest gratitude to Him
who, filled with pity, and for " his great love where-
with he loved us," left heaven to save us, let us
now consider our original state — " look unto the rock
whence we are hewn, and to the liole of the pit whence
we are digged."

I. Look at our state of nature and sin as one of
darkness.

In its essential nature, sin is as opposed to holiness
as darkness is to light ; and as different, therefore, from
holiness, as a starless midnight from tlie blaze of noon-
day. Our natural state is therefore, because of its sin-
fulness, represented by the emblem of darkness. How
appropriate and how expressive the figure ! Hence, in
describing the condition of the heathen, those who
neither know God, nor Him whom to know is life eter-
nal, the Bible says. The darkness shall cover the earth,
and gross darkness the people. Hence, those ancient
prophets who lived in the morning of the church — and
in the rosy east, and clouds already touched with gold,
saw a sun beneath the horizon hastening to his rise —
hailed Jesus as a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the
glory of His people Israel. Hence also, inasmuch
as he reveals saving truth, redeems from sin, and shines
upon the path he himself has opened to heaven, Jesus
stood before the multitude, and said, as lie raised his
hand to the blazing sun, " I am the light of the world."

24 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

Jesus I Thj people's shield, thou art also thy people's
sun ; a shield that never broke in battle, and a sun
that never sets in night ; the source of all the knowl-
edge that illumes, and of all the love that warms us ;
with healing, as well as heating virtue in tliy beams,
thou art " The sun of righteousness with healing in his
wings."

To that emblem of our Saviour, so splendid and yet
so simple, science imparts additional appropriateness
if the theory be true that accounts for those vast stores
of light and heat which we extract from dead dark
coal. The coal, which we raise from the bowels of the
earth, once grew upon its surface. Some ten or twenty
thousand years ago, it formed the giant forests where
mighty monsters ranged at will over an unpeopled
world. After this rank vegetation had incorporated
into its substance these elements of light and heat
which the sun poured down from heaven, God, provi-
dent of the wants of a race not yet created buried it in
the earth ; and thus furnished the earth with ample
stores of fuel for the future use of man. So, when the
sun has set, and the birds have gone to roost, and the
stars have come out in the sky, and the door is shut, and
the curtains are drawn, and peace and happiness smile
on the bright family circle, it is sun-light that shines
from the lustres, and sun-heat that glows on the hearth.
But whether that speculation of science be true or false,
to Jesus we can trace all the light .direct or derived,
which illuminates the world. Heavenly fountain of the
love that warms and the truth that enlightens man-
kind, he rose like a sun on this cold benighted earth ;
and will be the centre around which heaven itself shall
roll when tides liave ceased to flow below, and suns to
shine above. " The citv had no need of the sun, neithei

THE POWEll OF DARKNESS. 25

of the moon, to shine in it, for the glory of God did
lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof."

But, turning from the Saviour to contemplate the
sinner, I pray you to observe, that our state by nature
is one not merely of darkness, but of double darkness.
It is always dark, pitch dark, even at noonday, to the
blind ; not blazing sun, or shining stars to them. With
God "the night shineth as the day," but to the un.
happy blind, " He maketh the day dark with night."
Yet strong as this figure is, it does not adequately re-
present the full misery of our condition. We had
neither light nor sight. That we may be saved, do
you not perceive that two things, therefore, must be
done for us ? We require a medium to see by, as well
as eyes to see with ; to the revelation of the Gospel
must be added the regeneration of the Holy Spirit, in
other words, we must have in Christ an object for faith
to see, and in faith we must have eyes to see Christ.
Inhabitants of a Christian land, we possess one of these,
— like the Hebrews in Goshen we have a light in our
dwellings ; and so far we differ from the heathen, for
they have neither light nor sight. They live in dark-
ness so gross, that they do not distinguish purity from
pollution. They have no more idea of the way of sal-
vation than the blind have of colors. They do not
know God. Some worship a cow ; some a serpent ;
some a stone ; some the very Devil. In them, reason
crouches to adore a beast ; and man, made in the image
of God, bows his erect form and noble head before a
lifeless block. When, from the study of that instinctive
and unerring wisdom with which the lower animals —
the stork in the period of her migrations, the bee in the
construction of its cell — act in their allotted spheres,
we turn to this amazing, and all but incredible sense-

26 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

lessness and stupidity of man, what an illustration have
we of the saying, " If therefore the light that is in thee
be darkness, how great is that darkness ! "

But we, who dwell in this land, as I have already
said, live in light. Like the angel whom John saw,
we stand in the sun. Comparing it with most other
lands, we may, at least, call our island-home a Goshen.
Let these boast their balmy air, and richer fruits, and
sunnier skies ! In our religious as well as civil advan-
tages, we enjoy blessings that more than compensate
for the gloomy fogs that veil those skies, and the
storms that rage on our iron-bound shores. Our lines
have fallen in pleasant places, and happy the land, nor
to be rashly left, where the light of divine trulh streams
from a thousand printing-presses, and the candle of the
Lord shines bright in its humblest cottages. May I
not say that, with their multitude of churches, our
cities are illuminated every Sabbath, to celebrate the
triumphs of the cross, the great battle that was won on
the heights of Calvary, and the peace his heralds pro-
claim between God and man ? Men do perish, yet
none need perish. There is no lack of knowledge.
The road to heaven is plain. " The wayfaring man,
though a fool, shall not err therein." It is better
lighted than any street of this city, or the rugged
coasts along which our seamen steer, or the harbors
which, over surf-beaten bars, they boldly take in win-
ter's blackest niglit.

Notwithstanding tlie fulness of our light, what mul-
titudes are wrecked and perish ! They never reach
the harbor, nor arriving in heaven, get home I And I
am bound to tell you that, unless He, who gave sight
to the blind, apply his finger, and touch your eyes with
" eye-salve," their fate shall be yours. What though

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 27

light streams on our eye-balls ? We are in darkness
till we are converted ; because we are blind — and that
not by accident, but by nature — ^born blind. There are
animals, both wild and domestic, which, by a strange
and mysterious law of Providence, are born in that
state. " Having eyes, they see not." Apparently un-
ripe for the birth, they leave their mother's womb to
pass the first period of their being utterly sightless.
But, when some ten days have come and gone, time
unseals their eye-lids, and they are delivered from the
power of darkness. But not ten days, nor years, nor
any length of time, will do us such friendly office. Not
that we shall be always blind. Oh, how men shall see,
and regret in another Avorld, the folly they were guilty
of in this ! Eternity opens the darkest eyes, but opens
them, alas, too late ; " He lifted up his eyes, being in
torment." He is a madman who braves that fate ; yet
it awaits you, unless you bestir yourselves, and, shaking
sloth away, seize the golden opportunity to pursue the
Saviour with the blind man's cry, '' Thou Son of David,
have mercy on me ! "

I can fancy few sadder sights than an entire family,
parents and children, all blind — a home where the
flowers have no beauty, the night has no stars, the
morning no blushing dawn, and the azure sky no
glorious sun — ^a home, where they have never looked
on each other's faces ; but a blind father sits by the
dull fire with a blind boy on his knee, and the sightless
mother nurses at her bosom a sightless babe, that
never gladdened her with its happy smile. How would
such a spectacle touch the most callous feelings, and
move to pity even a heart of stone! But a greater
calamity is ours. The eyes of our understanding are
darkened. Sin quenched man's sight in Eden ; and

28 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

s trange result ! the event that revealed their nakedness
to our first parents, shut, closed, sealed their eyes, and
those also of their children, to the greater shame of
spiritual nakedness. Thus blind to their blindness,
and insensible of their need of Jesus, alas ! how many
allow him to pass by ! The precious opportunity of
salvation is lost — lost perhaps for ever. Oh, for one
hour of the sense and energy of the beggars that sat
by the gate of Jericho I Stumbling, often falling, but
always to rise, they hung on the skirts of the crowd,
plunged headlong into the thick of it, and elbowing
men aside, pursued Jesus with the most plaintive, piti-
ful, and earnest prayer, " Have mercy on us, 0 Lord,
thou Son of David I Have mercy on us, 0 Lord, thou
Son of David ! " Be yours that cry. Follow your
Saviour on their feet ; hang on liim witli the velicmence
of one who said, " My soul followeth hard after thee."
Be turned by nothing from your purpose — keep follow-
ing, and, as you follow, crying ; and I promise you that
that cry will stop him as sure as Joshua's pierced the
heavens, and stopped the glowing axles of the sun.

That we may have a deep, and, by God's blessing, a
saving impression of our need of salvation, let us look
at some aspects of our state by nature, in the light, if I
may say so, of its darkness.

1. Darkness is a state of indolence.

Night is the proper period for rest. When — em-
blem of a Christian at liis evening prayers — the lark
sings in the close of day, and leaves the skies to drop
into her dewy nest ; when from distant uplands, the
rooks — a noisy crowd — come sailing, wheeling home ;
when the flowers shut their beautiful eyes ; when the
sun, retiring within the cloudy curtains of the evening,

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 29

sinks into his ocean bed, nature, however some may
neglect her lessons, teaches man to seek repose. So,
with some exceptions, all honest men and women go
to sleep in the dark. " They that sleep, sleep in the
night ;'' and this busy world lies hushed in the arms
of slumber, till morning, looking in at the window,
calls up toil to resume her labors ; and thus, when we
have been summoned at midnight to a bed of death,
how loud the foot-fall sounded in the empty thorough-
fare ! With thousands around who gave no sign of
life ; with none abroad but prowling dog, or houseless
outcast, or some guilty wretch, with the tall, grim
tenements wrapped in gloom, save where student's
lamp, or the faint light of a sick chamber glimmered
dim and drear, we have felt such awe as he might do
who walks through a city of the dead. Yet, in its
hours, of deepest darkness and quietest repose, this city
presents no true picture of our state by nature. We
see it yonder where a city sleeps, while eager angels
point Lot's eyes to the break of day, and urge his tardy
steps through the doomed streets of Sodom. A fiery
firmament hangs over all the unconverted ; and there
is need that God send his grace to do them an angel's
office, saving them from impending judgments. Are
you still exposed to the wrath of God ? Rouse thee,
then, from sleep, shake off thy indolence, and leap from
thy bed, it is all one whether thou burn on a couch of
down or straw. " Escape to the mountains, lest thou
be consumed," betake you to the Saviour, lest — since
the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and he died
for the chief of sinners, and salvation is without money
and without price, and God is not willing that any
should perish — thou perish, more, in a sense, the victim
of thy sloth than of thy guiltiest sins.

30 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

Ancient Egypt, however, supplies perhaps the best
illustration of the connection which subsists between a
state of darkness and a state of indolence. God said
to Moses, " Stretch out thine hand toward heaven, that
there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even
darkness which may be felt. And Moses stretched
forth his hand toward heaven, and there was a thick
darkness in all the land of Egypt three days." And
how passed these days of darkness ? They neither
bought nor sold ; they neither married nor buried ;
they neither rocked a cradle nor embalmed a corpse.
No hammer rang, no merry wheel went round, no
fire burned at the brick kiln, no women sang " behind
the mill," no busy tread sounded on the pavement,
nor cheerful dash of oar upon the water. An awful
silence reigned throughout the land ; as if every liouse
had been in a moment changed into a tomb, and each
living man into a mummied corpse, they sat motionless
— the king on his weary throne, the peasant in the
field, the weaver at his loom, the prisoner in his dun-
geon. As in the story of some old romance, where a
bold knight, going in quest of adventures, sounds his
horn at the castle gate, and, getting no response, enters
to find king, courtiers, servants, horses, all turned into
stone ; they sat, spell-bound, where the darkness seized
them. " They saw not one another, neither rose any
from his place for three days."

Still greater wonder I many a man in this world
has not risen from his place, I say not for three days,
nor for three years, but ten times three years and more.
He is no nearer heaven than he was a long time ago.
Borne on, indeed, by the ever-flowing stream of time,
and ever-downward course of sin, alas I he is nearer the
brink of hell. Perilous indolence! God says, "labor

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 31

not for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat
which endureth unto everlasting life," " give diligence
to make your calling and election sure," " seek ye the
Lord while he may be found," and, therefore, I say, be
up and doing ; time is short, the stake is great, death
is at the door, and if he find you out of Christ, damna-
tion is at his heels. " And I looked, and behold a pale
horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and
Hell followed with him." Of your many calls and
opportunities, is this all the result ? Half awakened,
yet unwilling to tear yourself from the arms of pleas-
ure, do you avert your eyes from the light ? angry per-
haps at being disturbed, perhaps half sorrowful do you
bid us come back at " a more convenient season ? "
Drowsily turning on your deceitful couch, do you say,
" Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of
the hands to sleep ?" Then, in God's name, I ask
what shall be the end of these things ? The end of
these things is death.

2. Darkness is a state of ignorance.

Conducted under the veil of night to the nuptial
couch, Jacob finds in the possession of Rachel, as he
supposes, an ample reward for the seven long years of
weary work and waiting. She whom his heart wooed
and his hands won, is now his wedded wife. He wakes
a happy man, neither suspecting how God had punish-
ed him for the deceit he practised on his old, blind
father, nor how Laban, a greater master of craft than
himself, had substituted the elder for the younger
daughter. Fancy his confusion, when he turns, by the
rosy light of morn, to gaze on his beautiful bride, to
find the blear-eyed Leah at his side. Yet a day ap-
proaches when, from dreams of wealth and pleasure

32 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

many shall awake in rage and unavailing sorrow, to
the discovery of a greater mistake. AVhat Jacob's
mistake to his who, embracing pleasure, Avakens to
find himself in the arms of a hideous demon, dragging
him down — struggling, shrieking, into the lowest hell ?
But if we would see spiritual darkness represented
on a scale in any degree commensurate with the multi-
tude of its victims, and with its destructive power, let
us turn to the host of Midian. The memorable night
has come when, animated by a divine courage, Gideon
leads his three hundred to the bold assault. Silently
he plants them around the enemy's lines, waiting till
song and revel have died away, and that mighty
host lies buried in stillest slumbers. Then, one trum-
pet blows loud and clear, startling the wary sentinel
on his round. Tie stops, he listens, and ere its last
echoes have ceased, the whole air is torn with battle-
notes. Out of the darkness trumpet replies to trumpet,
and the blast of three hundred, blow^n loud and long,
wakens the deepest sleeper, filling tlie ear of night with
a dreadful din, and the hearts of the bravest with
strange and sudden fear. Ere they can ask what mean,
whence come these sounds, a sight as strange blazes up
through the murky night. Three hundred torch-fires
pierce the gloom, and advance in flaming circle on the
panic-stricken camp. Suddenly extinguished, once
more all is dark ; then, as if the dust of the whirlwind,
or the sands of the desert, or the leaves of the forest,
had turned into armed men, ready to burst on that un-
circumcised host ; in front, on their rear, on either
flank, rings the Hebrews' battle cry : " The sword of
the Lord and of Gideon !" For dear life the Midian-
ites draw ; mistaking friend for foe, they bury their
swords in each other's bosoms. Wild with terror,

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 33

stricken mad with pain, each man seizes his fellow by
the beard, giving and receiving mortal wounds. And
so, not by the arms of Gideon, so much as by the hand
of tlie darkness, was skill outwitted, and bravery de-
feated, and that mighty army routed and slain. Such
is the power of darkness ! Yet what is that dying host
to one lost soul !

Ugliness and beauty, friend and foe, are all one in
the dark. And so are all roads when the belated tra-
veller cannot see his finger before him, and the watery
pool throws off no gleam, and earth and sky appear a
solid mass of darkness. Unconscious of danger, and
dreaming of a home he shall never more see, he draws
near the precipice ; his foot is on its grassy edge,
another step, one loud shriek, and there he lies, a
bleeding mass, beneath the crag. Nor when night
comes down upon the deep in fog, or rain, or blinding
drift, can the ill-starred mariner distinguish the rock
from the sea, or a wrecker's fire from the harbor lights ;
thus showing us how many sinners perish — the dark-
ness is the cause of their death. They are lost, victims
to the " power of darkness."

The greatest of all mistakes is to miss the path to
heaven. Yet see how many, turning from Christ, who
says, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life,'' in
the darkness of their understandings, and the de-
pravity of their hearts, have missed, and are missing
it ? Some think that their charities, and public use-
fulness, and household duties, will save them. Some
think, by going the round and lifeless routine of
prayers, and preachings, and sacraments, and outward
services, that they will certainly secure the favor of
God, Some think they may go on in sin, and for a
while longer dare the danger, and then put up the
2«-

84 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

helm — veering round when they like on the other
tack ; while many fancy that they are on the road to
heaven, when every step they take, and every day they
live, is carrying them farther and farther away.
Others regard religion as a thing of gloom ; they
reckon the friends of their souls to be the enemies of
their happiness. Infatuated men ! they fly from the
voice of the Shepherd to throw themselves into the
jaws of the wolf. Nay, there are some plunged in yet
deeper moral darkness, who remind me of a convict
whom I saw in the Hulks — that frightful concentra-
tion of villany and crime. He had seated himself os-
tentatiously on a bench. With no blush burning on
his beardless cheek, but with an expression rather of
satisfaction in his face, the boy was polishing the fetter
on his ankle. Poor wretch, he was vain of its silvery
sheen, and raised sad thoughts in us of pity and won
der at the darkness of his neglected soul. And yei
more dark and dreadful is the state of many who
would once have said of the life they now lead, " Is
thy servant a dog that he should do this great thing ?"
Gone in iniquity, they boast, with unblushing face, of
the victims whom they have seduced ; of the abomin-
able debaucheries which they practise ; of virtue en-
snared by their villanous arts ; of simple, unsuspecting
honesty they have overreached ; of their scorn for re-
ligion, of their contempt of its professors, and their
loose, licentious freedom from its holiest bonds. They
blazon their sins upon their foreheads, and, parading
them before the world, glory in their shame.

No man wishes, no man intends, to go to Hell.
And who, that was not plunged in the ignorance of
deepest darkness, would choose death rather tlian life,
would embrace sin rather than the Saviour, would

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 85

wave away the cup of salvation to seize a poisoned
chalice, and drink down damning draughts of forbid-
den pleasure ? May God enlighten your eyes lest you
sleep the sleep of death ! Be not deceived. The tale
of the goblet, which the genius of a heathen fashioned,
was true ; and taught a moral of which many a death-
bed furnishes the melancholy illustration. Having
made the model of a serpent, he fixed it in the bottom
of the cup. Coiled for the spring, a pair of gleaming
eyes in its head, and in its open mouth fangs raised to
strike, it lay beneath the ruby wine. Nor did he who
raised that golden cup to quench his thirst, and quaff
the delicious draught, suspect what lay below, till as
he reached the dregs, that dreadful head rose up and
glistened before his eyes. So, when life's cup is nearly
emptied, and sin's last pleasure quaffed, and unwilling
lips are draining the bitter dregs, shall rise the ghastly
terrors of remorse, and death, and judgment, upon the
despairing soul. Be assured, a serpent lurks at the
bottom of guilt's sweetest pleasure. To this awful
truth may God, by his own word and Holy Spirit, open
your eyes ! Seeing the serpent, seized with holy hor-
ror at the sight, may you fling the temptation from
you ; and turn to Him, who, with love in his heart,
and kindness in his looks, and forgiveness on his lips,
and the cup of salvation held out in his hand, cries,
" If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. '^
Here, believe me, is peace that passeth understanding ;
here are joys that will bear the morning's reflection,
pleasures that are for evermore.

(continued.)

Wlio hath delivered us from the powerof darkness —Colossians i. 13.

Sailing once along a coast where a friend had suf-
fered shipwreck, the scene which recalled his danger
filled us with no fear. Because, while his ship, on the
night she ran ashore, was cutting her way through tlie
densest fog, we were ploughing the waters of a silver
sea, where noble headlands, and pillared cliffs, and
scattered islands, and surf-beaten reefs, stood bathed
in the brightest moonshine. There was no danger,
just because there was no darkness.

The thick and heavy haze is, of all hazards, that
which the wary seaman holds in greatest dread. It
exposes him to accidents which neither care nor skill
can avert. In a moment his bark may go crashing on
the treacherous rock, or, run down by another ship, fill
and founder in the deep. Rather than a glassy sea,
wrapped in gloom, give him the roaring storm and its
mountain billows, with an open sky above his head,
and wide sea-room around. And, in a sense, is it not
so with a Christian man? Give him the light of
heaven — let him enjoy both a clear sense of his inter-
est in Christ, and a clear sight of his duty to Christ,
and, in the midst of trials and temptations, how nobly
ho rides over them I He rises on the waves which

[36]

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 37

seemed about to overwhelm him, and holds on his
course to heaven — safer in the storm than others are
in the calm. Enjoying the sunshine of God's counte-
nance within his soul, and the light of God's word on
his path of duty, the man is cheerful where others are
cast down ; he sings when others weep ; when others
tremble, he is calm, perhaps even jubilant ; and, the
Lord his Saviour, because his sun, he adopts the brave
words of David, saying, " The Lord is my light and
my salvation ; whom shall I fear ? The Lord is the
strength of my life ; of whom shall I be afraid ? "

In resuming the subject of the previous discourse,
this leads me to remark —

3, That darkness is a state of danger. As locks and
bars prove, neither life nor property is safe by night as
they are by day. Honesty, having nothing to blush
for or to conceal, pursues her business in open day ;
but crime seeks the cover of the night. And what is
that thief, prowling abroad like a fox, and with stealthy
foot creeping along under shadow of the wall ; what
that assassin, searching the gloom, and listening for the
step of his victim's approach ; what she, who, issuing
from a den of sin, and throwing the veil of night over
painted cheek and faded finery, lurks in the streets for
her prey— what are these, but types of him who is the
enemy of man, and takes advantage of spiritual dark-
ness to ensnare or assault God's children, and to ruin
poor thoughtless sinners.

Such danger is there in darkness, that people have
perished witliin reach of home, almost at their own
door. So it befell one who was found in a winter
morning stretched cold and dead on a bed of snow —
her glazed eyes and rigid form contrasting strangely

88 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

with her gay attire. She began the night with dances,
and ended it with death. She leaves the merry revels
of a marriage-scene for her home across the mountain.
The stars go out, and the storm comes on. Bewildered
by the howling tempest, and the blinding drift, and the
black night, she loses her way. Long the struggle lasts.
At length, worn out and benumbed, she stretches her
fragile form on that fatal bed, and, amid dreams, per-
haps, of dances, and song, and merriment, she sinks into
the sleep that knows no waking. Nor was it when
snows were melted, and months or years had gone, that
her withering form was found by a wandering shepherd
on some drear upland, in a lone mountain corrie, half
buried in a dark and deep morass. No. She met her
fate near by a friendly door, and perished in the dark-
ness within a step of safety. Yet not nearer, nor so
near it, as many are to salvation, who yet are lost.
They die by the very door of heaven. The Apostle
tells us how, " The god of this world hath blinded the
minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the
glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God,
should shine unto them." The darkness is their death.
And while no night ever came down so black and
starless as that which has settled on the human soul,
in respect of its power over men, what can be compared
to mental, moral, spiritual darkness ? Its chains are
more difiBcult to rend than cliains of brass or iron.
Look at Popery ! She immures her votaries in a
gloomier dungeon than ever held her victims. And
throwing her fetters, not over the limbs, but over the
free mind of man, what an illustration does she give
of " the power of darkness ? " How formidable is that
power which compels a man to sacrifice his reason at
the feet of priestcraft ; and woman, shrinking, modest.

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 89

delicate woman, to allow some foul hand to search her
bosom, and to drag its secrets from their close conceal-
ment. Best gift of heaven ! God sends them his blessed
word, and they dare not open it. Those senses of
smell, and touch, and taste, which are the voice of God,
declare that the cup is filled with wine, and the wafer
made of wheat ; but, as if their senses as well as their
souls were darkened, they believe that to be a living-
man's blood, and this to be a living man's flesh !
" Having eyes, they see not." And, greatest triumph
of darkness I they hug their chains ; refuse instruction ;
stop their ears, like the deaf adder which will not hear
the voice of the charmer, charm he ever so wisely ;
and turn away their eyes from the truth, as the owls
that haunt some old monastic ruin from the glare of a
torch, or the blaze of day. How appropriate to the
devotees of a faith so detestable, the words of Scrip-
ture— " If the light that is in you be darkness, how
great is that darkness ! "

Censure, as well as charity, however, should begin
at home ; and therefore, to be faithful to ourselves as
well as just to others, we ought not to forget that
melancholy illustrations of the power of darkness are
found nearer at hand than Rome. In the face of all
past and much bitter experience, how many among
ourselves live under the delusion that, though the hap-
piness they seek and expect to find in the world has,
in all bygone time, eluded their grasp, in the object
they now pursue, they shall certainly embrace the
mocking phantom ! How many among ourselves, also,
are putting away the claims of Christ and of their
souls to what they flatter themselves shall be a more,
but what must be a less, convenient season ! Contrary
to the testimony of all who have ever tried it. do not

40 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

many of us persist in believing God's service to be a
weariness, and piety a life of cheerless gloom ? Many
regard the slavery of sin as liberty, and shun the
liberty of Christ as intolerable bondage. Many fancy
themselves to be safe, who, hanging over perdition by
life's most slender thread, are "ready to perish."
Talk of the delusions of Popery and the credulity of
Papists ! Many among us believe the barest and most
naked lies of the devil, rather than the plain word of
God. Alas! the feet of thousands here are on the
dark mountains ; and, unless God shall enlighten them
by his Spirit, the darkness, which is now their danger,
shall prove their death.

Were you, under the tyranny of mortal man, immured
in his strongest dungeon, I would not despair of your
escape. Within an old castle that sits picturesquely
perched upon a noble sea rock, and to whose crumbling
walls the memory of other days clings, fresh and green
as the ivy that mantles them, there is a sight to strike
men with horror. Passing under a low-browed portal,
where you bid farewell to the light and air of heaven,
a flight of broken steps conducts you down into a chill,
gloomy vault. In the centre of its rocky floor yawn
the jaws of a horrid pit. The candle, lighted and
swung into that dread abyss, goes down, and yet
deeper down, till, in an excavated dungeon in the rock,
it dimly reveals the horrors of a living grave. There
the cry for help could reach no ear but God's ; and no
sound responded to the captive's moan but the dull
steady stroke of the billows, as they burst on the face
of the crag. Into tliat sepulchre — where tliey buried
God's persecuted saints — you look to shudder, and to
say, " for them hope was none." Yet immure a man in
that — in the darkest, strongest dungeon despot has ever

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 41

built, and give him hope for a companion, liberty for
his bosom-wish, a brave heart, a stout hand, and, some
morning, his goaler enters to find the cage empty, and
the bird flown. But, for you that are under the power
of darkness — for you, who are at once the servants and
slaves and captives of the Prince of Darkness — for
you, whom he first blinds, and then binds, there is no
help in man.

There is help in God. Sin never wove, in hottest
hell-fires the devil never forged, a chain, which the
Spirit of God, wielding the hammer of the word,
cannot strike from fettered limbs. Put that to the test.
Try the power of prayer. Let continued, constant,
earnest, wrestling prayer be made for those that are
chained to their sins, and, so to speak, thrust "into
the inner prison," and see whether, as on that night
when Peter was led forth by the angel's hand, your
prayers are not turned into most grateful praises.
From the belly of tlie whale, from the depths of ocean,
from the darkness of a perpetual night, God brought up
Jonali to sunny shores and lightsome liberty. And let
that same God hear from vilest lips the cry of danger
— Lord save me, I perish — the cry of earnest desire, of
lowly penitence, of an awakened conscience, of humble
faith, and he shall save tliem by a great deliverance.
He will bow his heavens and come down. True to
his word, he, who never said to any of the sons of men,
" Seek ye me in vain," will deliver from the power of
darkness, and translate into the " kingdom of his dear
Son."

Having from these words considered our state of
nature under the emblem of darkness, I would now
remark —

4S THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

II. That even God's people remain in more or less
darkness, so long as they are here.

1. They may be in darkness through ignorance.
Their eyes have been divinely opened, and tliey can say
with the man of old, " This I know, that I once was
blind, but now I see." Having received " the truth as
it is in Jesus," and abandoned the works of darkness,
they are therefore called '' the children of light, and
the children of the day." Yet all of them do not enjoy
the same measure of light, nor are they all possessed of
equal powers of sight. Skies differ, and eyes differ ;
and hence those conflicting views which have separated
brother from brother, and rent Christ's church into so
many most unfortunate and lamentable divisions.

It is easy to understand how this happens. Let
objects be looked at through an imperfect light, and
how different the appearance from the reality ! What
mistakes we fall into ! In the gray morning, I have
seen the fog-bank that filled the valley wear the aspect
of a lake, where every wood-crowned knoll lay as a
beautiful island, asleep on its placid bosom. How often
has superstition fled, pale, shrieking from tlie church-
yard to report to gaping rustics that tlie dead were
walking ; when it was but the pale moonlight struggling
tlirough the waving branches of the old elms, that had
transformed some grave-stone into a sheeted spectre I
And, seen through a mist, the very sun itself is shorn
of its glorious splendor, turned into a dull, red, copper
ball ; while mean objects, regarded through the same
false medium, acquire a false dignity — bushes are mag-
nified into trees, and the humble cottage rises into a
stately mansion. And do not God's people'fall into as
great mistakes, when they look at divine truth through

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 48

their defective vision, and througli the mist of those
passions and prejudices that are common to our poor
humanity? There should be much more latitude al-
lowed for those differences of opinion which are insep-
arable from our present state ; but, forgetting to temper
the ardent zeal with the loving and liberal spirit of the
great Apostle, Christian men have allowed differences
to grow up into quarrels, and quarrels to ripen into
divisions, till they, who once took sweet counsel together,
and walked to the house of God in company, part, say-
ing, " Can two walk together, except they be agreed ?
A time approaches, blessed be God, when this unseemly
state of matters shall cease. According to old legends,
the ghosts all vanished at cock-crowing. And, as the
day dispersed the spectres, and the rolling away of the
mist fro.m the landscape rolls away also the mistakes
it led to, even so, when the day of the Lord comes, it
will settle all controversies — great and small. In
"the seven-fold" light of Zion, God's children shall
see " eye to eye." They shall not only behold " Him
as he is," and " the truth " as it is, but, with loving
surprise, their brethren as they are. There shall be
no differences, because there shall be no darkness.
" Now we see through a glass darkly ; but then face to
face ; now I know in part ; but then shall I know, even
also as I am known."

Meanwhile, He, who is sovereign in his dealings,
and gives no account of His ways, has not equally dis-
tributed the light of saving truth ; nor is there anything
in the kingdom of grace corresponding to a remarkable
fact in nature. Under the equator each day consists
of twelve hours of light, and as many of darkness, the
whole year round. But pass by one long stride to
the polar regions, and, according as the season is sura-

44 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

mer or winter, you stand beneath a sky wliicli either
enjoys perpetual day, or is wrapped in perpetual night.
There, Dr. Kane and his ship's crew, for instance, never
saw the sun for one hundred and forty long and weary
days ; but were left, as in those Pagan lands on which
the gospel has never shone, tou nbroken night. During
all that long period the sun never rose above the horizon
to cheer their icy prison with one beam of light. Yet,
taking the whole year round, the inhabitants of these
dreary climes have the same period of light as we and
others ; for theirs are nightless summers, on which
the stars never rise, and the sun never sets, but wheels
his burning chariot round and round the pole. Now,
in regard to saving light and knowledge, we find
nothing corresponding to this phenomenon. Strange
mysterious providence ! there is no such equal diffusion
of gospel truth. AVe dare not doubt that God's ways
are equal, and that eternity will shed a wondrous
and glorious light on this gloomy mystery ; but over a
vast surface of our unhappy world we see only dark-
ness— " gross darkness" — unbroken night — nations that
never hailed the rising of a better sun.

But, leaving the Heathen in the hands of God, we
find some Christian nations in such darkness, as to
make it almost a marvel to us how they find their way
to heaven. I cannot, and would not doubt, that the
Churcli of Rome, for instance, has true saints within
her — chosen ones, who shall be plucked as brands from
the fire, cast out, like praying Jonah, safe upon the
land. Still, within that church the people enjoy at
best " a dim religious light." The gospel, permitted
to reach them only through blind or selfish priests^
suffers like change with the sunbeam that streams
through the colored windows of their gorgeous but

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 45

gloomy cathedrals ; and, with a cloud of saints inter-
posed between him and the eye of the sinner, the
Saviour, like the sun behind misty vapors, stands shorn
of his resplendent glory.

Again, in those few countries where in full free-
dom to use the Bible, and in the general use of it, the
gospel may be said to shine with unclouded splendor,
God's people do not all walk in the same degree of
light. Be it owing to peculiar circumstances, or to
some defect of vision, they are not all equally enlight-
ened. Some are ojffensively narrow-minded. Some are
so short-sighted that they can hardly recognize Christ's
own, and therefore their own brother, unless he belong
to the same church, and remember the Saviour at the
same table with themselves. They are great upon little
things. More given to hate the error than love the
truth which they see in others, their temper is sour and
ungenial. I do not assert that they have not the eagle-
wings which rise to near communion with God, but
they want that long-sighted eagle-eye which discerns
distant objects, and embraces in its range of vision a
broad and wide expanse. Be ours the charity which
beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all
things, endureth all things I

Again, while some saints enjoy a clear assurance
of their salvation, and stretching toward lieaven, be-
hold the land that is very far off, as seamen from
their outlook descry the mountain-tops, when their
bark is ploughing a waste of waters, and yet a long
way from land, there are other Christians who pass
their days in a state of despondency. The sun seldom
breaks out to cheer them. Their faith has a hard
fight with their fears. It is little they know of rejoic-
ing in the Lord, and joying in the God of their salva-

46 THE POWER OF DAKKNESS.

tion. By help of God's word, their compass, they
succeed, no doubt, in steering their way to heaven, but
it is over a troubled sea and under a cloudy s]^y ; nor
are they ever happy enough to be altogether delivered
from doubt and fear, till fears as well as faith are lost
in light, and they find themselves safe in glory.

Again, while some, who draw all the doctrines they
believe directly and freshly from the fountain of God's
word, are enlightened, catholic in spirit, and sound in
the faith, it is otherwise with otliers. Calling this or
that man Rabbi, they yield too much submission to
human authority. They draw the water of life, so to
speak, not at the spring but at the well ; and tasting
of the pipe it flows through, their creed, and faith, and
doctrines are adulterated by a mixture of earthly,
though not fatal, errors.

If we allow to these views their due influence, how
ought they to expand our hearts, and teach us a tender
regard toward those from whom we diff'er I Blindness
of mind, surely, if not willful, claims our gentle pity,
more even than blindness of body. We all " see
through a glass darkly." Perhaps we are mistaken.
Perhaps our brethren are right. The possibility of this
should teach us to diff'er meekly, and to avoid, even
when denying the infallibility of the pope, the arro-
gance of one who thinks liimself infallible. Of this,
at any rate, I am sure, that, as objects are not only
obscured but also magnified by mist, many points of
diff'erence between Christian men appear much larger
now than they shall do when regarded by the serene
light of a deathbed, and yet more certainly in the
transparent atmosphere of heaven. And were it not
well if good men would never forget that piety, though
not consistent with indiff*erence, is consistent with a

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 47

measure of error. Admit that, by heaping " gold,
silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble" on the true
foundation, others have done wrong ; yet they shall be
saved, though as by fire. The errors of many are de-
lusions ; and it is both literally and figuratively true
that delusions of the brain are less dangerous than
disease of the heart. A man, through the darkness,
may wander to a greater or less extent from the plain,
patent, direct road, and yet get home. And happiest
though they be who pursue their journey in unclouded
sunshine, yet. to the upright " there ariseth light in the
darkness" — shed by the Spirit within their souls,
streaming down direct from heaven. And I have often
thought it shall be with those whose hearts beat true
to God and Jesus Christ, as with one who loves his
father and his mother, and longs once more to see their
faces, and to hear their voices, and after weary years
of exile, to dwell again among brothers and sisters
beneath the old roof-tree. Little light serves to show
him the road. Bent on getting home, he will cross
the mountains, and ford the river, and travel waste
and pathless moors througli the mists of the thickest
day. What although errors, like exhalations from the
swampy ground, have risen up in many churches to
obscure the heavenly light? Where there is genuine
love to Jesus Christ, and God, and man, may we not
cherish the hope that there is truth enough to conduct
to heaven the steps of every pilgrim who is honestly
and earnestly inquiring the way to Zion ? " There
shall be a highway out of Egypt." " They shall come
from the east and from the west, and from the north,
and from the south," — from various climes, and from
diverse churches, — " and shall sit down in the kingdom
of God." Nor do I despair of any getting to that

48 THE POWEll OF DARKNESS.

heavenly kingdom, who, though belonging to churches
that are dimly lighted, can discern upon the altar the
one sacrifice for sin.

2. God's people may be in darkness through sin.
So long as you walk in the path of his holy command-
ments you walk in light, walk at liberty ; you have
Jesus' arm to lean on ; heaven lies straight on the
road before you ; and, on your path, however rough or
steep, there streams perpetual sunshine. In the light
of God's word, and in the beams of his countenance,
the believer has that which imparts a genial warmth
to his heart ; every object, as in a sunny day, looks
bright and beautiful ; and the clouds which occasion-
ally sweep over him and discharge their burden on his
head, are spanned, as they pass away, by a bow of
hope. " Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness
for the upright in heart."

" Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation ! " the
cry of one who has wandered from the paths of purity
and peace, leads us to speak, in such cases, of God
withdrawing the light of his countenance. But is it
not more strictly true, tliat, in turning aside from the
paths of holiness, we have withdrawn from that ? It
is he that descends into a pit who leaves the light, not
the liglit that leaves him. So it is with the saint — the
deeper he sinks into sin, the darker it grows. God
will not smile on his child sinning ; and that which
would happen to our world, were its sun withdrawn,
befalls his unhappy soul ; a chilling cold follows on
the darkness, and, but for restoring grace, death itself
would follow in their train. The heart, that once sang
like a bird, is now mute ; the beauties of religion are
lost to sight ; sacraments, prayers, pious services, cease

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 49

to afford their wonted pleasure ; the joys of salvation
— that once flowed through his heart, like silver
streams among flowery pastures — are congealed into
stillness, silence, and death ; the soul itself grows be-
numbed, and is seized with a lethargy that would end
in death, did not God send some Nathan to break the
spell, and to rouse the sleeper. Then, conscience
awakened and alarmed, in what darkness does he find
himself? The sun is down ; nor does a single star
cheer that deepest night. His mind is tortured with
dreadful doubts. He recalls the days of old, but only
to fear that he was a hypocrite or a self-deceiver.
Where the scriptures speak of castaways, of tlie un-
pardonable sin, of the impossibility of a renevf al again
unto repentance, he seems to read his doom, written
by God's own finger in letters of fire. Nor is the poor
penitent backslider saved from utter despair, but by
clinging to the hope of mercy through the all-cleansing
blood of Jesus. Led by this blessed angel to *' tlie
throne of grace," encouraged by this blessed promise,
" I will heal their backslidings and love them freely,"
he throws himself in the dust to cry, " Hath God for-
gotten to be gracious ? " " Is his mercy clean gone for
ever?" "Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation ;
and uphold me with thy free spirit." " Be merciful
unto me, 0 God ; be merciful unto me."

These are the words of David, when under remorse
for most terrible crimes. But never fancy that you
are in no danger of losing the light of God's favor,
unless you fall into a pit as deep, into sins as gross
and grievous, as that good man committed. Beware
of so great an error. No object, in its own place the
most innocent, nor man, nor woman, nor husband, nor
wife, nor child, nor bosom friend — nothing beneath the
3

60 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

sun, not the heaven above it, with its holy pleasures,
and high society, and welcome rest, may be allowed to
come in between our affections and Jesus Christ. Let
any object whatever interpose between me and the sun,
and a shadow, more or less cold and dark, is the im-
mediate consequence ; as happens when the moon, for-
getting that her business is to reflect the sunbeams, not
to arrest them, rolls in between our world and him, to
turn day into night, and to shroud us in the gloom of
an eclipse. Even so the deep shadow of a spiritual
darkness may be flung over a congregation, who, allow-
ing the pulpit to come in between them and the cross,
think too much of the servant and too little of the
Master. May not that account for the scanty fruit of
a ministry from which much might have been expected?
God will not give his glory to another ; and they who
in their regards set the servant before the Master,
place the preacher in a position to intercept tliat bles-
sing, without which Paul may plant and Apollos water
but there is no increase. When Alexander offered to
do Diogenes any favor he might ask, the philosopher,
contemplating in the sun a far nobler object than the
conqueror of the world, and setting a higher value on
his beams than on the brightest rays of royalty, only
begged the monarch to step aside, nor stand between
him and the sun. However rude such answer on the
part of the cynic, it were a right noble speech from
you to any and every object that would steal your
heart from Christ. Let him, who is all your salvation,
be all your desire. Is he not " the brightness of the
Father's glory, and the express image of His person?"
Fairer than the children of men, more lovely than the
loveliest, he is " the chiefest among ten thousand " — he
is " altogether lovely."

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 51

3. God^s people may he in more or less darkness as
to their spiritual state. It is easy to account for such
a case as David's. There, spiritual darkness was both
the consequence and the chastisement of a sad spiritual
declension. It is not always so. There are cases of
religious desertion and despondency that do not admit
of being thus explained. Without any sensible falling
away, the shadow of Calvary has spread itself over the
believer's soul ; and, filling him with awful horror, has
wrung from his lips that most bitter cry, " My God,
my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" The mercy-
seat and the cross are lost in darkness. The Sun of
Righteousness undergoes an eclipse. Nothing is seen
but the lightnings, and nothing heard but the thunders
of Sinai — flash follows flash, and peal thunders upon
peal, while his sins rise up in terrible memory before
him. Were such your case, God has provided for it.
" Who," says he, " is among you that feareth the Lord,
that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketli in
darkness, and hath no light ; let him trust in the name
of the Lord, and stay upon his God." In these cases
God has not left his people comfortless. If, perhaps,
like Peter, sinking in the waves of Galilee, tlie light-
ning flashing on their foaming crests, and the thunder
crashing above his head, you have lost all sensible hold
of Christ, it does not follow that Christ has lost saving
hold of you. You may retain your hold when you lose
your sight of him. God's people are to hang on him
in their seasons of deepest distress. His promises arc
a Father's arm ; and clinging to these, trusting to him
when you cannot see him, you may hope against hope,
and even rise to tae faith of one who said, " Though
he slay me, yet will I trust in him."

But the spiritual state of sonie unqudstionably pious

52 THE POWER OF DARKNESS.

people is not occasionally, but always more or less
dark. I have known such. They could not find, at
least they could not feel, any very satisfactory evidence
of their conversion. We saw it ; they did not. It
happened to them as to Moses. He left the mount ot
God with the glory of his face visible to every one but
himself. This is not a desirable state, certainly, if for
no other reason than this, tliat he fights best, either
with men or devils, who fights the battle with hope at
his back. What so likely to make you diligent in pre-
paration for glory, as a clear prospect of lieaven, and
sense of your holy calling ? Who that, footsore, worn,
and weary, has toiled up some mountain-lieight, from
whose breezy summit he saw his distant home, has not
found the sight make another man of him, and — all
lassitude gone — send liim off on liis journey, vvith
bounding heart and elastic limbs? Therefore we say
with Paul, " Give diligence, to make your calling and
election sure."

Notwithstanding all your pains and all your prayers,
have you never yet attained to the joy of faith, to a
full assurance of salvation ? Be not " swallowed up
with overmuch sorrow." Blessed are they w^hose sky is
clouded w^ith no doubts or fears! With music in their
hearts, and their happiness blowing like those flowers
that fully expand their leaves, and breathe out their
fragrance only on sunny days, they will go up to Zion
with songs ; yet, although not so pleasantly, they may
reach home as safely who enjoy the light of the sun,
but never sec his face. Your last hours may be like
hers whom John Buuyan calls Miss Fearing. She was
all her lifetime " subject to bondage," and dreaded the
hour of death. The summons comes. And when she
goes down into the waters, how does this shrinking.

THE POWER OF DARKNESS. 53

trembling, timid one bear herself? Hand to hand,
Christian met his enemy in the valley, and so smote
Apollyon with the sword of the Spirit, that he spread
forth his dragon wings, and sped him away ; yet where
that bold believer was in deep waters, and all but
perished, this daughter of many fears found the river
shallow. She beheld the opposite shore all lined with
shining angels, and passed with a song from earth to
heaven.

The sun, who has struggled through clouds all day
long, often breaks forth into golden splendor at his
setting ; and not seldom, also, havie the hopes that
never brightened life broken forth to gild the depart-
ing hour. The fears that hung over the journey have
vanished at its close. The voice, that never spoke
with confidence before, has raised the shout of victory
in " the valley of the shadow of death." To the wonder
of men and the glory of God, the tongue of the dumb
has been unloosed — what gracious things they have
said ! and the blind have got their sight — what views
of heaven they have had ! and he, who seemed all his
life but a babe in Christ, has started up, like a giant and
a strong man armed, to grapple with the last enemy.
Standing in the light of life's declining day — with
Satan, and the world, and the flesh, and Death himself
beneath his feet, he spends his last breath in the trium-
phant shout, " O death, where is thy sting ? 0 grave,
where is thy victory ?" " Thanks be to God, which
giveth me the victory through my Lord Jesus Christ.''
And thus God fulfils the promise, " It shall come to
pass, that at evening time it shall be light."

Wfit ^ini^Aom tat ^ftrli^t.

Translated into the kingdom of his dear Son. — Colossians i 18.

Inside those iron gratings that p rotect the ancient
regalia of our kingdom, vulgar curiosity sees nothing
but a display of jewels. Its stupid eyes are dazzled
by the gems that stud the crown, and sword, and
sceptre. The unreflecting multitude fix their thoughts
and waste their admiration on these. They go away
to talk of their beauty, perhaps to covet their posses-
sion ; nor do they estimate the value of the crown
but by the price which its pearls, and rubies, and dia-
monds, might fetch in the market.

The eye of a patriot, gazing thoughtfully in on these
relics of former days, is all but blind to wliat attracts
the gaping crowd. His admiration is reserved for
other and nobler objects. He looks with deep and
meditative interest on that rim of gold, not for its
intrinsic value, but because it once encircled the brow
of Scotland's greatest king, — the hero of her inde-
pendence, Robert the Bruce. His fancy may for a
moment turn to the festive scenes in yonder deserted
palace, when that crown flashed amid a gay throng of
princes, and nobles, and knights, and statesmen, and
lords, and ladies, all now mouldered into dust ; but she
soon wings her fliglit to the worthier and more stirring
spectacles wliich history has associated with these sym-
U>4)

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 65

bols of power. She sees a nation up in arms for its
independence, and watches with kindling eye the vary-
ing fortunes of the fight. It rages around these in-
signia. Now, she hears the shout of Bannockburn ;
and now, the long wail of Flodden. The events of
centuries, passed in weary war, roll by before her.
The red flames burst from lonely fortalice and busy
town ; the smiling vale, with its happy homesteads,
lies desolate ; scaffolds reek with the blood of patriots ;
courage grapples with despair ; beaten men on free-
dom's bloody field renew the fight ; and, as the long,
hard struggle closes, the kingdom stands up like one
of its own rugged mountains, — the storms that ex-
pended their violence on its head, have left it ravaged,
and seamed, and shattered, but not moved from its
place. It is the interests that were at stake, the fight
for liberty, the good blood shed, the hard struggles
endured for its possession ; it is these, not the jewels,
which in a patriot's eye make that a costly crown — a
relic of the olden time, worthy of a nation's pride and
jealous preservation.

Regarded in some such light, estimated by the suffer-
ings endured for it, how great the value of that crown
which Jesus wears ! What a kingdom that which cost
God his Son, and cost that Son his life ! It is to that
kingdom that we have now to direct your attention ;
and for this purpose, let us consider —

I. The importance which Christ himself attaches to
his kingly claims.

There are crowns worn by living monarchs, of which
it would be difficult to estimate the value. The price
paid for their jewels is the least part of it. They cost
thousands of lives, and rivers of human blood ; yet in

66 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

his esteem, and surely in ours also, Christ's crown out-
weighs them all. He gave his life for it : and alone^
of all monarchs, he was crowned at his coronation by
the hands of Death. Others cease to be kings when
they die. By dying he became a king. He laid his
head in the dust that he might become " head over all ;"
he entered his kingdom through the gates of the grave,
and ascended the throne of the universe by the steps
of a cross.

The connection between our Lord's sufferings and
kingly claims marks some of the most touching scenes
of his history. In what character did his people
reject him ? It was as a king ; they cried " We will
not have this man to reign over us." In what guise
did the soldiers ridicule and revile him ? It was as a
king ; " they clothed him with purple, and platted a
crown of thorns, and put it about his head." For
what crime was he crucified ? It was iTecause he
claimed to be a king. The noble character of the
sufferer shone through the meanest circumstances of
his death, and was read in the inscription tliat stood
above his dying head, " Jesus of Nazareth the King
of the Jews." His royal claims have been lightly
thought of, and often trampled beneath the heavy foot
of power. Men have dared to treat them with scorn.
Yet he, who is surely the best judge of their impor-
tance and value, has himself taught us a very different
lesson ; and in proof of that, 1-et us now turn to two
separate occasions on which our Lord refused to abate
one iota of these claims — maintaining them under cir-
cumstances of the strongest temptation to do other-
wise.

Turn your eye on that desert, where. Heaven and
Hell watching the issue at a distance, alone and with-

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 57

out attendants, the two mightiest potentates that ever
met on earth, meet — not for conference, but for conflict.
Knowing that he has another now to deal with than a
guileless woman— the beautiful but fragile vessel his
cursed hand shattered in Eden — Satan enters the lists,
armed with his deepest craft. He knows that Jesus
stands before him, a poor man ; who, though aspiring
to universal empire, has neither friend nor follower,
neither fame nor rank. Never was deeper poverty !
He presents himself before us in its most touching
aspect — he has neither a morsel of bread to eat, nor a
bed to lie on. Ever suiting the temptation to the
tempted, and, like a skillful general, assaulting the cita-
del on what he judges to be its weakest side, Satan
comes to Jesus with no bribe for passions so low as
avarice, or lust, or ease, or self-indulgence. He
addresses that love of power, which was his own per-
dition, and is the infirmity of loftiest minds. Tacitly
acknowledging, by the magnificence of the temptation,
how great is the virtue of him whom he tempts, he
offers him the prize of universal empire. By some
phantasm of diabolical power, he presents a panoramic
view of " all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory
of them ;" and when he thinks the spell has wrought,
and that he has roused the dormant passion to its
highest pitch, he turns round to Jesus, saying, " All
these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and
worship me." He shall, and shall for ever, be king, if
he will for once yield up his claims, and receive the
kingdom at Satan's hand. No ; neither from such
Ij^-nds, nor on such conditions, will our Lord receive
the sceptre. He stands firm upon his own right to it ;
and, rather than yield that up, is ready to endure the
cross and despise the shame. IJe turns with holy scorn
3*

58 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

from the temptation, and foils the Enemy with the
words, " Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and
him only shalt thou serve."

Turn now to another scene. Jesus stands before
Pilate. Alone ? Not now alone ; worse than alone.
Deserted by the few humble friends he had, without
one to know him, he is confronting malignant and
powerful accusers. A savage crowd surrounds him.
Blind to his divine excellence, deaf to the calm voice
of reason, dead to gentle pity, they glare on him with
their eyes ; they gnash their teeth at him ; nor are
restrained but by the steady port and resolute de-
meanor of these Roman guards from rushing in like a
pack of blood-hounds, and tearing him to pieces.
Blessed Lord 1 now, now mayest thou say, " My soul is
among lions ; and I lie even among them that are set
on fire, even the sons of men, whose teeth are spears
and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword." There,
in that hour, see how his life hangs on a thread, on
a single word. Every charge they have brought
against him has broken down — bursting into spray and
foam, as I have seen the sea-wave that has launched it-
self upon a rock. Leaving their witnesses to convict
themselves of perjury, he preserves, on his part, un-
broken silence. Serene and unmoved he stands the
cruel pelting of the storm. Shame to his chosen dis-
ciples, shame to his followers, shame even to the thou-
sands he had blessed and cured, not one is there to es-
pouse his cause ; and, boldly stepping out, to say, in the
face of that infuriate crowd, " I know the man ; I know
him to be the purest, kindest, greatest, best of men.
Assembly of murderers ! crucify him not ; or, if you
will perpetrate so foul a crime, crucify me with him."

Such are the circumstances in which Pilate puts his

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 59

question, " Art thou the King of the Jews ?" On this
question, and our Lord's answer, everything is now to
turn. The crisis has come. His fate is in the balance.
Let him say, no, and resign his claim — he lives ; and,
the baffled crowd dividing before him like the sea of
old before the host of Israel, he leaves the bar for life
and liberty. Let him maintain his silence — continue
dumb, he is safe. Unless he compromise himself, this
coward judge condemns not " innocent blood." Have
you ever been present in a court of justice wlien the
bell rang, and the jury returned, and the foreman rose
to pronounce a verdict of death or life on the pale,
anxious, trembling wretch who stood before you ?
Then you can fancy the deep, hushed, breathless
silence, with which judge, and accusers, and the whole
multitude, bend forward to catch our Lord's reply.
If he claims to be a king, he seals his fate. If lie re-
nounces and disavows his right, the Roman sets him
at liberty. Our Lord foresees this. He has a full
foreknowledge of all the consequences of the word he
is now to speak. Yet he claims the crown. Refusing
to abandon, or even to conceal his kingly character,
he returns to Pilate this bold reply, " Thou say est ;"
in other words, " I am a king " — King of the Jews.

How do these facts illustrate the preeminent impor-
tance which Jesus attached to his office and character
as a king ! They do more than illustrate, they demon-
strate it. To explain this, let me recall a recent cir-
cumstance to your recollection. When our Indian
empire was sliaken to its foundations, and, as many
feared, tottering to its fall, the enemy in one instance
offered terms of compromise. They were rejected.
Unmoved by the most adverse fortunes, undismayed
by the pestilence, starvation, and murder, which stared

60 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

them in the face, with the hope of relief burning lower
and lower as the weary days wore on, our gallant
countrymen, in the darkest hour and crisis of their
fortunes, would listen to no compromise. They could
die but not yield ; and so sent back this stern answer,
" We refuse to treat with mutineers." And if we
would yield up no right in the hour of our greatest
weakness and terrible extremity, far less shall we do
so with the tide of battle turned in our favor, and that
enemy crushed, or crouching in abject terror at our
feet. Now, our Lord liad the strongest temptations
to abandon his kingly claims ; and if he refused to
give them up in the desert, where he had not a morsel
to eat, and at the bar, when to have parted with them
would have saved his life, he is not likely now certainly
to yield one jot or tittle of what belongs to him as a
King. He has no inducement to do so. A friendless
prisoner no more, he stands at the right hand of God ;
the head which was bound round with a thorn wreath,
now wears the crown of earth and heaven ; and the
hand they mocked with a reed sways, over angels,
men, and devils, the sceptre of universal empire.
Think you that Christ will allow Satan, or the world,
or the flesh, to pluck from his power what they could
not wring from his weakness ? Never. He will never
consent to share his throne with rivals from whom he
won it. He claims to reign supreme in your hearts,
in every heart which his grace lias renewed, over all
whom he has conquered by love and redeemed with
blood.

Would God that we conld live up to that truth !
How often, and to what a sad extent, is it forgotten !
each of us doing what is right in his own eyes, as if
there was no king in Israel. Oh, that we were as

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 61

anxious to be delivered from the power, as all of us
are to escape the punishment, of sin ! I do not say
that we should look less to Christ as a Saviour, but
we should certainly look more to him as a sovereign ;
nor fix our attention on his cross, so much to the ex-
clusion of his crown. We are not to yield him less
faith, but more obedience. We should not less often
kiss his wounds, but more frequently his feet. We
can never too highly esteem his love, but we may, and
often do, think too lightly of his law. His Spirit
helping us, let his claims on our obedience be as cheer-
fully conceded as his claim to our faith ; so that to
our love of his glorious person, and his saving work,
we may be able to add with David, " O how love I
thy law !''

II. Consider from whom Christ received the king-
dom.

1. He did not receive it from the Jews. " He came
unto his own, and his own received him not."

Once, indeed — like stony-ground hearers, like some
who make a flaming profession of religion to abandon
it almost as soon as they embrace it — the Jews seemed
eager to receive Jesus. They even attempted to thrust
royal honours on him ; " Jesus perceived that they
would come and take him by force to make him a king."
Afterwards, and by one of those popular movements,
which, in the form of a panic or an enthusiasm, rises
rapidly, like a flooded river, to sweep in its headlong
course stones as well as straws before it, they bore him
in royal state on to the capital. Not with sacred oil,
or golden crown, or imperial purple, but such royal
insignia as the circumstances admitted of, they invested
their new-made king. They denuded themselves of

62 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

their garments to carpet the dusty road. Mothers
held up their babes to see him ; women and children
filled the joyous air with loud hosannas ; gray old
men, as the procession swept by, shed tears of joy that
the long-looked-for hour had come ; and, marching
with the tramp of freemen — as if every foot beneath
its tread crushed a Roman eagle — strong men, with
ten thousand stout arms ready to fight for his crown,
waved green palms in anticipation of triumph and
victory. Thus the living wave, swelling higher as it
advanced, rolled on to Jerusalem, bearing Jesus for-
ward to the throne of David. For his mother, for the
Marys, for his disciples, for all ardent patriots, it was
a glorious hour. Alas ! how soon all was changed !
It passed like a beautiful pageant — passed like the
watery gleam of a stormy day — passed like a brilliant
meteor that shoots athwart the dusky sky. A few
days afterwards, and Jerusalem, with a crowd as great,
presents another spectacle. The stage, the actors, the
voices, are the same ; but the drama, if I may so speak,
how different I This brief act of honour and duty,
homage and triumph, is closely followed by an awful
tragedy. We have seen tales of horror and shocking
butchery shake the heart of a whole nation ; but this
event struck the insensate earth with trembling, spread
a pall of mourning over the whole firmament, filling-
creation with such signs of bereavement as fill a house
when its head is smote down by the hand of death.
The tide, which bore Jesus to the crown, turns ; and
when next we see him, he hangs basely murdered upon
a cross. An inconstant people have taken the object
of their brief idolatry and, like an angry child with
its toy, dashed it on the ground. Tlie only crown
our Lord gets from man is woven of thorns. His

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 63

Father had said, " He shall be exalted and extolled.

and be very high f and man found no way of fulfill-
ing that old prophecy, but to raise him, amid shouts
and laughter, naked and bleeding, on the accursed
tree. " He came unto his own, and his own received
him not."

I know that a nation is not always to be held account-
able for the acts of its rulers. A righteous public
may have the conscience to disapprove what they have
not the power to prevent. But our Lord's death was
no act of the government, or simply the act of Pilate,
or of the priests and statesmen of the time. It was a
great national deed. In that vast assembly which
pronounced the verdict, there was certainly not a city,
nor village, nor hamlet, nor perhaps even a shepherd's
solitary hut among the uplands of Judea, but had its
representative. So, when Pilate put the question, it
was the voice of the entire country that made itself
heard in the unanimous and fatal verdict, " We will
not have this man to reign over us " — yesterday we
would ; to-day we won't ; let him die ; away with him
to the cross. Horrible crime ! yet one, alas ! in a
sense still repeated, often repeated ; and for no other
reasons than at the first. If Christ would have con-
sented to rule on their terms, the Jews would have
made him king. Had he agreed to establish an earthly
monarchy, to gratify the nation's thirst for vengeance
on their Roman masters, to make Jerusalem the proud
capital, and the Jews sole sovereign rulers of a con-
quered world, they would have revolted to a man.
Religion lent its intensity to the burning hatred which
they bore against the empire of the Caesars ; and, on
such conditions, those who crucified him would have
fought for him with the resolution which held Jerusa-

64 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

lem, till delicate women devoured their children, and
men, famished into ghastly skeletons, met the Romans
in battle under a canopy of flames, and in the throat of
the deadly breach.

Now, to this day, how many would accept of Jesus
as king, would he but consent to their terms — allow
them to indulge their lusts, and retain their sins ! If,
like some eastern princes, who leave the reins of gov-
ernment in other hands, he would rest contented with
the shadow of royalty, with the mere name and empty
title of a king, many would consent to be his subjects.
But be assured that he accepts not the crown, if sin is
to retain the sceptre. He requires of all who name
his name, that they " depart from iniquity ;" and, with
" holiness unto the Lord" written on their foreheads,
that they take up their cross, and deny themselves daily,
and follow him. On this account he is still practically
rejected by thousands — whose profession of religion is
a name and shadow. How is that old cruel tragedy
repeated day by day within the theatre of many a
heart ! God says, " This is my beloved son, in whom I
am well pleased ;" the preacher brings Jesus forth for
acceptance, clothed in purple, and crowned with thorns,
and all the tokens of his love upon him, saying, " Be-
hold the man ;" conscience is aroused to a sense of his
claims ; but these all are clamored down. Stirred up
by the devil — the love of the world, the lust of the
flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life, and all the
corrupt passions of our evil nature, rise like that Jew-
ish mob to cry, " We will not have this man to reign
over us." Let the fate of these Jews warn you against
their sin ; for if God did such things in the green tree,
what shall he do in the dry ? Be assured that, unless
you are obeying Christ as a sovereign, you have never

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 65

yet known him as a Saviour. Your faith is vain. His
cross and his crown are inseparable.

2. He does not receive the kingdom from his own
people.

Some have fought their way onward to a palace,
leaving the print of a bloody foot on every step that
led them to the throne. And what violence or vil-
lainy, or both, have won, despotism holds. I could
point to lands where the ambitious adventurer who has
seized the throne is a tyrant, and his subjects are
crouching slaves — as, indeed, men ever will be, who
want the backbone of religion to keep them erect. It
is God-fearing piety which makes a man the best sub-
ject of a good government, and the most formidable
enemy to a bad one. Animated by its lofty hopes,
sustained by its enduring spirit, a true Christian is not
the man to sell his liberties for a dishonorable peace,
nor his birth-right for " a mess of pottage."

Our happy land, in contrast with most other coun-
tries, presents an illustrious example of a family
crowned, I may say, by the hands of the people —
called to the throne by the free voice of a nation.
The sceptre, which a female hand sways so well and
gracefully over the greatest, freest, empire in the
world, was, nigh two hundred years ago, Avrenched
from the grasp of a poor popish bigot ; and his suc-
cessor was borne to the vacant throne on the arms of
a people, who, to their everlasting honor, considered
crowned heads less sacred than their liberties and
religion.

Ts it by any such act of his people that Christ has
been crowned? Is he in this sense a popular mon-
arch, one raised to the throne bv the suffrages of the

6^ THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

people? No. Here the king elects his subjects — not
the subjects their king ; and in that, as in many other
senses, he who is both our Saviour and our sovereign
says, " My kingdom is not of this world." There have
been many disputes about the doctrine of election, and
these have given birth to many most learned and pro-
found treatises ; the combatants on one side maintain-
ing that in election God had respect to the good works
which he foresaw men were to do, while their oppo-
nents have, as we think more wisely held, that in all
cases his choice is as free and sovereign as when, de-
scending on the plains of Damascus, he called in Saul
of Tarsus, the greatest persecutor of his church, to be
its greatest preacher. It was on this subject that an
aged Christian uttered a remarkable saying, which I
may apply to the matter in hand. She had listened
with patience to a fine-spun and very subtle argument
against the doctrine of a free election. She did not
attempt to unravel it. She had no skill for that ; but
broke her way out as through the meshes of a cobweb
with this brief reply, '• I believe in the doctrine of a
free election ; because I know, that if God had not first
chosen me, I had never chosen him.

That reply, which was quite satisfactory to her sim-
ple piety, and will weigh more with many than a hun-
dred ponderous volumes of theological learning, rests
on the depravity of our nature, and applies to our pres-
ent subject. Aliens by nature to the commonwealth
of Israel, and the enemies of God by wicked works, it
is absolutely necessary that Christ should first choose
you as his subjects, before you can choose him as your
king. Hence our catechism says, " Christ executeth
the office of a king in subduing us to himself, ruling
and defending us, and restraining and conquering all

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 67

his and our enemies." Thus, Prince of Peace though
he be, in the Psalms and elsewhere he is pictured forth
as a warrior armed for the battle ; a s^vord girded on
his thigh, a bow in his hand, zeal glowing in his eyes,
he drives the chariot of the gospel into the thick of his
enemies. And as our own nation lately, with prayers
for their success, sent off her armies to reduce to obe-
dience a revolted province, God, when sending his Son
to our world, addressed him as one about to engage
in a similar enterprize : " Gird thy sword upon thy
thigh, 0 most mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty.
And in thy majesty ride prosperously, because of truth,
and meekness, and righteousness ; and thy right hand
shall teach thee terrible things. Thine arrows are
sharp in the heart of the king's enemies ; whereby the
people fall under thee."

Christ does indeed reign by conquest ; but his reign
is not therefore one of terror. The very opposite.
He reigns, as he conquered, by love. For, although
in the first instance his people neither choose him, nor
call him to the throne afterwards, what king so well
beloved? Enthroned in the heart, he rules them
through their affections ; nor employs any but that
which is at once the softest and strongest, the gentlest
and mightiest of all forces, the power of love. He
subdues, but it is to save you. He wounds, but it is
to heal you. He kills, but it is to make you alive.
It was to crown you with glory that he bowed his
head to that crown of thorns. Other sovereigns may
have rendered good service to the state, and deserved
its gratitude ; but Christ's is the only throne, filled by
a living king, who has this at once most singular and
sublime claim on the devoted attachment of his sub-
jects, that he died to save them. " I am he that liv-
etli; and was dead."

d8 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

We are not such subjects as we should be. Yet tlie
world is not to be allowed to forget, that, imperfect
as our obedience is, his people are not insensible, noj
have they shown themselves insensible, to the para-
mount claims which Jesus has upon their loyalty. In
our eyes, the grace and glory of other sovereigns pales
before his — as stars when the sun has risen ; nor is
there any one we ever saw, or our affections ever clung
to, whom we feel we should love as we ought to love
Jesus Christ. True piety is not hypocrisy ; and it is
due alike to Christ and the interests of religion, that
the world should know that the love his people bear
for him is a deeper affection than what the mother
cherishes for the babe that hangs helpless on her
bosom ; a stronger passion than the miser feels for the
yellow gold he clutches. With the hand of the robber
compressing his throat, to have his gray hairs spared,
he would give it all for dear life ; but loving Jesus
whom they never saw, better than father, or mother,
or sister, or brother, or lover, or life itself, thousands
have given up all for him. Not regretting, but rejoic-
ing in their sacrifices, they have gone bravely for his
cause to the scaffold and the stake.

It is easy to die in a battle-field — to confront death
there. There, earthly prizes are won — stars, briglit
honors, are glittering amid that sulphureous smoke ;
there, earthly passions are to be gratified — my sister
was wronged, my mother butchered, my little brother's
brains dashed out against the wall. I am a man, and
could believe the story told of our countrymen ; how
each, having got a bloody lock of a murdered woman's
hair, sat down in awful, ominous silence ; and, after
counting the number tliat fell to each man's lot, rose
to swear by the groat God of lioavon. tliat for every

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 69

hair they would have a life. Amid such scenes, with
passions boiling, vengeance calls for blood, hurling
rae, like a madman, on the hedge of steel ; and, where
the shout of charging comrades cheers him on, the sol-
dier is swept forward on blazing guns and bristling
bayonets, in a whirlwind of wild excitement. But, to
lie pining in a dungeon, and never hear the sweet
voice of human sympathy ; to groan and shriek upon
the rack, where cowled and shaven murderers are as
devoid of pity as the cold stone walls around ; to suf-
fer as our fathers did, when, calm and intrepid, they
marched down that street to be hung up like dogs for
Christ's crown and kingdom, implies a higher courage,
is a far nobler, manlier, holier thing. Yet thousands
have so died for Jesus. Theirs has been the gentle,
holy, heroic spirit of that soldier boy, whose story is
one of the briglit incidents that have relieved tlie dark-
ness of recent horrors, and shed a halo of glory around
the dreadful front of war. Dragged from the jungle,
pale v/ith loss of blood, wasted to a shadow with fam-
ine and hardship, far away from father or mother, or
any earthly friend, and surrounded by a cloud of black
incarnate fiends, he saw a Mahometan convert appalled
at the preparations for his torture — about to renounce
the faith. Fast dying, almost beyond the vengeance
of his enemies, this good brave boy had a moment
more to live, a breath more to spend. Love to Jesus,
the ruling passion, was strong in death ; and so, as the
gates of heaven were rolling open to receive his ran-
somed spirit, he raised himself up, and, casting an im-
ploring look on the wavering convert, cried — " Oh, do
not deny your Lord ! " A noble death, and a right
noble testimony !

Would to God that we alwavs heard that voice and

70 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

cry, wlien, in the ordinary circumstances of life, we are
tempted to commit sin. I say the ordinary circum-
stances of life ; for it would almost seem as if when we
are least tried, we are most in danger. On grand
occasions faith rises to the trial ; and such is the vital-
ity of christian love, that, like the influence of the wind
on fire, the storm seems rather to blow up than to
blow out the flame. How often have Christ's people
found it easier to withstand on great occasions than
on small ones! Those will yield to some soft seduc-
tion, and fall into sin, who, put to it, might stand up
for the cause of truth and righteousness as bravely as
he who, in yonder palace, stands like a rock before the
king. Commanded to do what lays Christ's crown at
Caesar's feet, he refuses. It is a thing which, though
ready to dare death, he dare not, and he will not do.
He offers his neck, but refuses that — addressing him-
self in some such words as these to the imperious mon-
arch : " There are two kingdoms and two kings in
in Scotland ; there is King Jesus and King James ;
and when thou wast a babe in swaddling clothes, Jesus
reigned in this land, and his authority is supreme."

Would to God that we had, whenever we are tempt-
ed to commit sin, as true a regard for Christ's para-
mount authority! With special reference to our own
hearts be the prayer ever offered, thy kingdom come —
take to thee thy great power and reign. Ours be thy
prayer, 0 David — " Cleanse me from secret faults, and
keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins ;
let them not have dominion over me." Alas, how
often do we unwittingly, thoughtlessly, rashly, under
the lingering influence of old habits, swept away by
some sudden temptation, some outburst of corruption,
practically deny the Lord that bought us, and yield

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 71

our members to be the servants of sin ! Let us confess
it. Often are we constrained to say, with Ezra, when
ho rent his mantle, and fell on his knees, and spread
out his hands unto the Lord, " Oh, my God, I am
ashamed and blush to lift up my face to thee, my God ;
for our iniquities are increased over our heads, and
our trespass is grown up unto the heavens." Yet let
not the worldling go away to triumph over such con-
fessions, and allege that there is no such thing as gen-
uine religion or true love to Christ. This much I will
venture to say for his people, and for the grace of God,
in which their great strength lies — put us to the test,
give us time for prayer and reflection, and there are
thousands who, rather than renounce Jesus Clirist,
would renounce their life, and, with unfaltering foot-
step, tread the well-beaten path that the martyrs have
made to glory. Faith, eyeing the opening heavens,
would stand on the scaffold, and say, as she changed a
Jewish into a Christian hymn — if I forget thee, 0
Jesus, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do
not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of
my mouth ; if I prefer not Jesus above my chief joy ! '

(continued.)

Translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son.— Colossians i. 13.

There was an ancient and universal custom set
aside, on his coronation day, by that great emperor
who bestrode the world like a Colossus, till we locked
him up in a sea-girt prison — chained him, like an eagle,
to its barren rock. Promptly as his great military
genius was wont to seize some happy moment to turn
the tide of battle, he seized the imperial crown. Re-
gardless alike of all precedents, and of the presence
of the Roman Pontiff whose sacred office he assumed,
he placed the crown on his own head ; and, casting an
eagle eye over the applauding throng, stood up, in the
pride of his power, every inch of him a king. The
act was like the man — bold, decisive ; nor was it in a
sense untrue, its language this, The crown I owe to no
man ; I myself have won it ; my own right arm hath
gotten me the victory. Yet, witli some such rare ex-
ceptions, the universal custom, on such occasions, is to
perform this great act as in the presence of God ; and,
adding the solemnities of religion to the scene, by the
hand of her highest minister to crown tlie sovereign.
It is a graceful and a pious act, if, when religion is
called upon to play so conspicuous a part, on such a
stage, and in the presence of such a magnificent assem-

(72)

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 73

bly, all parties intend thereby to acknowledge that
crowns are the gift of God, that sovereigns as well as
subjects are answerable for their stewardship, and that
by Hira whose minister performs the crowning act,
kings reign, and princes decree justice.

According to that scripture, God sets up one and
puts down another, plucks the sceptre from the hand
of this man, and gives it to that, and, as our days have
seen, makes fugitives of kings, to raise a beggar from
the dust and the needy from the dunghill, and set him
with princes. And what he does in an ordinary and
providential sense to all kings, he did in a high, and
preeminent, and special sense to his own Son. The
" divine right of kings," with which courtiers have
flattered tyrants, and tyrants have sought to hedge
round their royalty, is a fiction. In other cases a
mere fiction, it is in Christ's case a great fact. The
crown that rests on his head was placed there by the
hands of Divinity. It was from his eternal Father
that he received the reward of his cross, in that king-
dom, which, as we have already showed, he received
neither from the Jews, nor from his own people.
" Yet," says God, " have I set my king upon my holy
hill of Sion." And so I remark —

3. Jesus received the kingdom from God.

When we look at the two occasions — both of them
great occasions — on which our Lord was crowned,
what a striking contrast do they present ?

The scene of the first is laid on earth. Its circum-
stances are described by the evangelists — men who
were the sad eye-witnesses of the events that they re-
late. And when we have found ourselves unable,
without trembling voice, and swimmino[- pve?, and
4

74 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

kindling passions, to read some of those touching let-
ters which tell how brothers, and tender sisters, and
little children, and sweet babes, and beloved friends,
were pitilessly massacred — when one remembers how,
even at this distance from India's bloody scenes, we
were ready to take fire, and swell the cry that called
for vengeance on such revolting cruelties, nothing in
the Bible seems more divine than the calm, even, un-
impassioned tone with which our Lord's disciples de-
scribe the events, and write the moving story of their
Master's wrongs. Where one would fancy an angel
might have been stirred to anger, or would have
covered his eyes and w^ept outright for sorrow, their
voice seems never to falter, nor their pen to shake,
nor their page to be blotted by a falling tear. Where,
we are ready to ask, is John's fond love, Peter's ardent
temper, the strong impetuous passions of these unso-
phisticated men ? Nor is there any way of account-
ing for the placid flow of their narratives, other than
the fact that holy men of old spake and wrote as they
were moved by the Holy Ghost, and were the organs
of Him whose complacency no event ruffles, and who,
dwelling in the serene altitudes of his divine nature,
is raised high above all passion.

Let us look then at the scene of our Lord's first
coronation as they present it. Jesus is handed over
to men of blood. Behold him stripped of his raiments !
His wasted form — for it is he who speaks in the pro-
phetic words, " I may tell all my bones ; they look
and stare upon me," — moves no pity ; no more, his
meek and patient looks. They tie him to a post.
They plough long furrows on his back. And now
cruel work is to be followed by more cruel sport.
Laughing at the happy thought, his guards summon all

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 75

the band, and hurry off their faint and bleeding pri-
soner to some spacious hall. The expression may
seem coarse, but it is true — they make game of the
Lord of Glory. And when the shocking play is at its
height, what a sight there to any disciple who should
venture to look in ! Mute and meek, Jesus sits in
that hall — a spectacle of woe ; an old purple robe on
his bleeding back ; in his hand a reed ; and on his
head a wreath — not of laurel, but of thorns, while the
blood, trickling down from many wounds over his
face, falls on a breast that is heaving with a sea of
sorrows. Angels look on, fixed with astonishment ;
devils stand back, amazed to see themselves outdone ;
while all around his sacred person the brutal crowd
swells and surges. They gibe ; they jeer ; they laugh ;
some in bitter mockery bend the knee, as to imperial
Caesar ; while others, to give variety to the hellish
sport, pluck the reed from his unresisting hand, and
beat the thorns deep into his brows ; and ever and
anon they join in wild chorus, making the hall ring to
the cry, " Hail, King of the Jews."

The people of Bethleliem, one day as they looked
out at their doors, saw a poor widow, bent and gray
with grief and age, walking up their street, who was
accompanied by a Moabitess — poorly clad and widowed
like herself. She is at length recognised. It is
Naomi ! The news flies through the town. But when
her old acquaintances who hastened to greet her,
beheld in such poor guise one who had left them in
circumstances of envied affluence, happy with a loving
husband at her side, and at her back two gallant sons,
they were seized with blank amazement. They held
up their hands to cry, " Is this Naomi ? " And how
might the angels, who had adored tlie Son as lie

76 THE KiNGDc;:.: of christ.

lay in the bosom of the Father, or, singing in the skies
of that same Bethlehem, had bent down to gaze with
wonder and admiration on the babe of Mary's breast,
regard the spectacle in that hall with greater bewild-
erment— exclaiming, " Is this the Son of God ?"

These twisted thorns formed the crown wherewith
" his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals."
Nor should we leave that to turn our eyes on another
scene, till we have thought with godly sorrow of the
sins, and with deep affection of the love, which brought
Jesus from heaven to meet such sufferings. In these
wounds and blows he took our sins upon him ; in
these indignities he was wounded for our transgres-
sions ; he was bruised for our iniquities ; the chastise-
ment of our peace was upon him ; and with his stripes
we are healed.

Turn now from this cruel mockery to the other
scene where he received a different crown, in a dif-
ferent assembly, and from very different hands. The
cross is standing vacant and lonely on Calvary — tlie
crowd all dispersed ; the tomb is standing empty and
open in the garden — the Roman sentinels all with-
drawn ; and from the vine-covered sides of Olivet a
band of men are hastily descending — joy, mingled
with amazement, in their looks. With the bearing of
those that have a high enterprise before them, they are
rushing down the mountain upon tlie world — a stream
of life which is destined to roll on till salvation reaches
the ends of the eartli. While the disciples come down
to the world, Jesus, whom a cloud received from their
sight, goes up to heaven ; and, corresponding to the cus-
tom of those olden days, when the successful champion
was carried h(5me in triumph from the field, borne
high through applauding throngs on the shields of his

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 77

companions, our Lord enters into glory, escorted by a
host of angels. His battle over, and the great victory
won, the conqueror is now to be crowned, throned,
installed into the kingdom. Behold the scene as re-
vealed by anticipation to the rapt eyes of Daniel : —
" I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the
Son of Man came with the clouds of heaven, and
came to the Ancient of Days, and they brought him
near before him. And there was given him dominion,
and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations^
and languages should serve him : his dominion is an
everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and
his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed."

Thus our Lord received the crown from his own
Father's hand ; and then, it might be said, was the
Scripture fulfilled, " He shall see of the travail of his
soul, and shall be satisfied." Yet observe, I pray you,
that in a sense, he is not satisfied. Is there no satisf}^-
ing of the greedy grave ? None. Death has been
feeding its voracious maw these many thousand years ;
and yet, how does it open that wide black mouth to
cry, " Give, give, give !" Nor, in one sense, is there
any satisfying of the love of Christ. It is deeper
than the grave ; and its desires grow with their grati-
fication. Incessantly pleading for more saved ones,
Jesus entreats his Father — his cry also, " Give, give."
Yes ; he would rather hear one poor sinner pray, than
all these angels sing ; see one true penitent lying at
his feet, than all these brilliant crowns. In glory,
where every eye is turned upon himself, his eyes are
bent down on earth. I fancy that amid the pomp of
state, and splendid enjoyments of the palace, it is little
that the sovereign thinks of the poor felon who pines
in lonely prison, crushed and terror-stricken, with hag-

7:6 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

gard face and heavy heart, waiting the death to which
the law has doomed him ; seldom, perhaps, in fancy,
does that pallid wretch intrude himself where all wear
smiles, or send a hollow groan from his cell to move
one thought of pity, or disturb the sparkling flow of
royal pleasures. But Jesus does not forget the wretcli-
edness of the lost amid the happiness of the saved.
Their miseries are before him ; and amid the high
hallelujahs of the upper sanctuary, he hearkens to
the groans of the prisoner and the cry of the perish-
ing. And, like a mother, whose loving heart is not
so much with the children housed at home, as with the
fallen, beguiled, and lost one, who is the most in her
thoughts, and oftenest mentioned in her prayers,
Jesus is thinking now of every poor careless sinner
with his lost soul, and the sentence of death lianging
over his guilty head. He pities you from his heart.
He would save you, would you consent to be saved.
And you, who were never honored with an invitation
to a palace on earth, you who are never likely to be
so honored, you, by whom this world's pettiest mon-
arch would haughtily sweep, nor deem you worthy of
the smallest notice, Jesus, bending from his throne,
invites to share his glory, and become with him kings
and priests unto God.

III. Let us inquire in what character Jesus holds
this kingdom.

It is not as God, nor as man, he holds it ; but as
both God and man. Mediator of the New Covenant,
the monarch of a new kingdom. What he was on
eartli he is still in heaven — God and man for ever.

Our Lord appeared in both these characters by the
grave of Lazarus. " Jesus wept." Brief but blessed

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 79

record ! These were precious tears. The passing air
kissed tliem from his cheek, or they were drunk up of
the earth, or they glistened but for a little, like dew-
drops on some lowly flower ; yet assuring us of his
sympathy in our hours of sorrow, their memory has
been healing balm to many a bleeding heart. Weep-
ing, his bosom rent with groans, he stands revealed —
bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh — a brother born
for adversity, for the bitter hour of household deaths,
to impart strength to the arms that lay the dead in
the coffin, or slowly lower them into the tomb. Yet
mark how, by the same grave, he stands revealed in
another character, with his divine majesty plainly un-
veiled. To weep for the dead may be weakness, but
to raise the dead is power. Like the clear shining
after rain, when every tree seems hung with quivering
leaves of light, and the heath of the moor sparkles,
and gleams, and burns with the changing hues of
countless diamonds, see how, after that shower of
tears, the sun of Christ's Godhead bursts forth on the
scene, and he appears the brightness of his Father's
glory. Men have wept with him ; but there, where
he stands face to face with grim death, let both men
and angels worship him. Death cowers before his eye.
He puts off the man, and stands out the God ; and the
wonder of the dead brought to life is lost in the higher
wonder of one who could weep as a man, and yet work
as a God.

On the Sea of Galilee also, our Lord appears in both
characters. The son of Mary sleeps. His nights have
been spent in prayer, and his days in preaching, heal-
ing, incessant works of benevolence — he has been teach-
ing us how we also should go about doing good — he has
been practically rebuking those whose days are wasted

so THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

in ease and idleness, or whose evenings, not calm like
nature's, but passed amid the whirl of excitement, or in
guilty pleasures, sweet slumbers refuse to bless. Now
wearied out with labor, the son of Mary sleeps. There
is no sleeping draught, no potion of the apothecary that
can impart such deep refreshing slumbers as a good
conscience and a busy day's good work. Proof of that,
stretched on his bare, hard couch, Jesus sleeps— amid
the howling of the wind the dash and roar of stormy
billows, sleeps as soundly as he ever slept a babe in
his mother's arms. He lay down a weary man ; but
see how he rises at the call of his disciples to do the
work of a God. On awaking, he found the elements
in the wildest uproar, the waves were chasing each
other over the deep, the heavens were sounding their
loudest thunders, the lightnings were playing among
the clouds, and the winds, let loose, were holding free
revelry in the racked tormented air. As I have seen
a master, speaking with low and gentle voice, hush the
riotous school into instant silence, so Jesus spake.
Raising his hand, and addressing the rude storm, he
said, " Peace, be still." The wind ceased, and there
was a great calm. No sooner, amid the loudest din,
does nature catch the well-known sound of her mas-
ter's voice, than the tumult subsides ; in an instant all
is quiet ; and, with a heave as gentle as an infant's
bosom, and all heaven's starry glory mirrored in its
crystal depths, the sea of Galilee lies around that
boat — a beautiful picture of the liappy bosom into
which heaven and its peace have descended. " Justi-
fied by faith," purchased by the blood of Christ, and
blessed with his presence, " we have peace with God
through our Lord Jesus Christ."
Now those two natures which our Lord thus revealed

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 81

on earth, he retains in heaven. And as both God and
man, he occupies the throne of grace, and the throne
of providence — holding under his dominion all worlds,
and principalities, and powers ; for, in him dwelleth
all the fulness of the Godhead bodily, and he has been
made Head over all things to the church. This must
be so. He got the kingdom ; and, simply as God,
there could be no addition made to his possessions.
Simply as God, he could get nothing, because all things
were already his. You cannot add to the length of
eternity ; nor extend the measure of infinity : nor
make absolute perfection more perfect ; nor add one
drop to a cup, nor even to an ocean, already full.

And as, on the one hand, our Lord did not get
this kingdom simply as God, neither, on the other
hand, did he receive it simply as man. To suppose so,
were to entertain an idea more absurd, more improba-
ble, more impossible, than the fable of Atlas, who,
according to wild heathen legends, bore the world on
his giant shoulders. How could an arm that once
hung around a mother's neck sustain even this world ?
But he, who lay in the feebleness of infancy on Mary's
bosom, and rested a wayworn and weary man on
Jacob's well, and, faint with loss of blood, sank in the
streets of Jerusalem beneath the burden of a cross,
now sustains the weight of this and of a thousand
worlds besides. It is told as an extraordinary thing
of the first and greatest of all the Ceesars, that such
were his capacious mind, his mighty faculties, and his
marvellous command of them, that he could at once
keep six pens running to his dictation on as many
different subjects. That may, or may not be true ;
but were Jesus Christ a mere man, in the name even
of reason, how could he guard the interests, and man-
4*

82 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

age the affairs of a people, scattered far and wide over
the face of the habitable globe ? What heart were
large enough to embrace them all ; what eyes could
see them all ; what ears could hear them all ? Think
of the ten thousand prayers pronounced in a hundred
different tongues that go up at once, and altogether,
to his ear 1 Yet there is no confusion ; none are lost ;
none missed in the crowd. Nor are they heard by
him as, standing on yonder lofty crag, we hear the din
of the city that lies stretched out far beneath us, with
all its separate sounds of cries, and rumbling wheels,
and human voices, mixed up into one deep, confused,
hollow roar — like the boom of the sea's distant break-
ers. No ; every believer may feel as if he were alone
with God — enjoying a private audience of the king in
his presence-chamber. Be of good cheer. Every
groan of thy wounded heart, thy every sigh, and cry,
and prayer, falls as distinctly on Jesus' ear as if you
stood beside the throne, or, nearer still, lay with John
in his bosom, and felt the beating of his heart against
your own.

Jesus Christ, God and man for ever, what a grand
and glorious truth I How full of encouragement and
comfort to those, like us, who have sins to confess, sor-
rows to tell him, and many a heavy care to cast upon
his sympathy and kindness. Since Mary kissed his
blessed feet, since Lazarus' tomb moved his ready tears,
since Peter's cry brought him quick to the rescue,
since John's head lay pillowed on his gentle bosom, since
a mother's sorrows were felt and cared for amid the
bitter agonies of his dying hour, he has clianged his
place, but not his heart. True man and Almighty
God — God and man for ever — believer, let liim sustain
thy cares. Thy case cannot be too difficult, nor thy

THE KINGDOM OF CHKIST. 83

burden too heavy for one who guides the rolling planets
on their course, and bears on his unwearied arm the
weight of a universe.

lY. Let me urge you to seek an interest in this
kingdom.

Your eternal welfare turns on that. You must be
saved or damned ; crowned in heaven or cursed in
hell. Jesus said, " My kingdom is not of this world ;"
and blessed be God tbat it is not. For those very
features by which it is distinguished from the world's
kingdoms are among its most encouraging aspects to
us. They are bright with hope to the chief of sin-
ners.

The poor say there is little chance or hope for them
in this hard world. Well, are you poor ? I had almost
said, so much the better. " To the poor the Gospel is
preached." You can get on well enough to heaven
without gold. The wealth on which the kingdoms of
this world set so high a value, and which, for all their
talk of blood and breeding, has bought the coarse ple-
beian a marriage into proud patrician families, is here
rather a hinderaiice than a help. Has not the Lord
of this kingdom said. It is easier for a camel to go
through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to
enter into the kingdom of God ?

In the freest and best governed states, birth, and
wealth, and rank, and blood, give to their envied pos-
sessors great — often too great advantages. It is the
high-born chiefly that approach the person of the sov-
ereign, enjoy the honors of the palace, and fill the
chief offices of the state. Royal favors seldom de-
scend so low as humble life. The grace of our King,
how^ve^, is like those blessed dews that, while the

84 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

mountain tops remain dry, lie thick in the valleys ;
and, leaving the proud and stately trees to stand with-
out a gem, hang the lowly bush with diamonds,, and
sow the sward broadcast with orient pearl. This is
the kingdom for the mean, and the meek, and the poor,
and the humble ! Its King has said. Not many mighty,
not many noble, are called, Blessed are the poor in
spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

There is no degradation in honest poverty. But
are you degraded, debased, an outcast from decent,
good society — characterless ? Nor does that exclude
you from the mercy and grace of God — " Go ye," he
said, " into all the world, and preach the gospel to
every creature." Go to the gallows ; and preach it
to the man with a rope on his neck, and his feet on the
drop. Go to the jail ; and preach it to the scum of
the city. Go to her dens of iniquity ; and preach it
as freely and fully as in her highest and holiest con-
gregation. Saving, gentle, pitying mercy, turns no
more aside from the foulest wretch, than the wind that
kisses her faded cheek, or the sunbeam that visits as
brightly a murderer's cell as a minister's study. Nay
• — though the holiest of all kingdoms — while we see a
Pharisee stand astonished to be shut out, mark how,
when she approaches, who, weeping, trembling all
over, hardly dares lift her hand to knock, the door
flies wide open ; and the poor harlot enters to be
washed, and robed, and forgiven, and kindly wel-
comed in.

Have you done nothing to mei'it this kingdom?
Who has ? Did Manasseh ? Did Ir^imon Poter ? Did
Saul of Tarsus ? Was it his hands, reeking with the
blood of Stephen, that earned for him the saving grace,
and the honors of the chief apostleship? Was it for

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 85

one look of pity, one word of kind sympathy from their
lips, that, as his murderers nailed him to the tree, our
dying Lord raised his eyes to heaven and prayed.
Father, forgive them ; for they know not wliat they do ?
No. They say, and why may not Ave, Not by works of
righteousness which we have done, but according to
his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration,
and renewing of the Holy Ghost ?

Yet, though not saved by obedience, remember that
submission to Christ's commandments is required of
all those who belong to his kingdom ; and that the very
foundations of spiritual as of common liberty are laid in
law — are right government and righteous laws. There
is no true liberty without law. Nor can you fancy a
more happy condition for a country than that of Israel
when, without king or government, " every man did
that which was right in his own eyes." Ours is a free
country, for instance ; yet where is law so paramount?
The baton of the humblest constable carries more
authority here than sceptres have done elsewhere.
Liberty is not only the birthright of its sons, but
should a slave once touch these shores, he drops his
chain, and is free as the waves that beat them. Still,
it is freedom under, not without, law. He is not at
liberty to do what he chooses — he cannot seize my
property. He is not at liberty to go where he chooses —
he cannot enter the humblest cottage without its own-
er's consent. He is not at liberty to act as he chooses
— commit a private wrong or disturb the public peace.
Yet he is free ; only, in escaping from a slave-cursed
soil to a land of freedom, he has not placed himself
beyond authority ; but has exchanged lawless oppres-
sion for lawful government. So is it with you whom
the truth has made free, To you the gospel is " a law

86 THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.

of liberty," because, bursting tiie bonds of sin and
Satan, it sets you free to obey the law of God. The
believer gladly accepts of Christ's yoke, and delights
in the law of God after the inward man, saying, Oh
how love I thy law, it is my meditation all the day.

In a general sense, we are all the subjects of Christ's
kingdom. It embraces the boundless universe. And
he who once had not a place wherein to lay his head,
now reigns over a kingdom, the extent of which reduces
our proud boast to contempt. Tell me that the sun
never sets on Britain's empire, and that before he has
sunk on one province, he has arisen on another ; that
sun, which wheels his mighty course in heaven, shines
but on an outlying corner of the kingdom over which
Jesus reigns. To many of its provinces he appears
but as a twinkling star ; and in others, lying far beyond
the range of his beams, immeasurable distance hides
him from view. But no distance hides any part of
creation beyond our Saviour's authority. He stands
on the circle of the heavens, and his kingdom ruletli
over all.

In a saving sense, however, Christ's kingdom is not
without, but within us. Its seat is in the heart ; and
unless that be right with God, all is wrong. It does
not lie in outward things. It is not meat and drink —
not baptism or the communion — not sobriety, purity,
honesty, and the other decencies of a life of common
respectability. " Except a man be born again, he can-
not see the kingdom of God." Its grace and power
have their emblem in the leaven this woman lays, not
on the meal, but in the meal — in the heart of the lump,
where, working from within outwards, from the centre
to the circumference, it sets the whole mass fermenting
— changing it into its own nature. Even so the work

THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 87

of conversion has its origin in the heart. When grace
subdues a rebel man, if I may so speak, the citadel first
is taken ; afterwards, the city. It is not as in those
great sieges which we have lately watched with such
anxious interest. There, approaching with his brig-
ades, and cavalry, and artillery, man sits down outside
the city. He begins the attack from a distance ; creep-
ing like a lion to the spring — with trench, and parallel,
and battery — nearer and nearer to the walls. These
at length are breached ; the gates are blown open ;
through the deadly gap the red living tide rolls in.
Fighting from bastion to bastion, from street to street,
they press onward to the citadel, and there, giving no
quarter and seeking none, beneath a defiant flag, the
rebels, perhaps, stand by their guns, prolonging a des-
perate resistance. But when the appointed hour of
conversion comes, Christ descends by his Spirit into the
heart — at once into the heart. The battle of grace
begins there. Do you know that by experience ? The
heart won, she fights her way outward from a new
heart on to new habits ; a change without succeeds the
change within, even until the kingdom — which, in the
house of God, by the body of the solemn dead, over
the pages of the Bible, amid the wreck of health or
ruins of fortune, came not with observation — comes to
be observed. A visible change appears in the whole
man. May it appear in you ! then, though the world
may get up the old half-incredulous, half-scornful cry,
Is Saul also among the prophets? good men shall
rejoice on earth, and angels celebrate the event in
heaven.

And hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son.— Col. L IS,

All pain, that is passing, and not perpetual, is, in
that circumstance, attended with great consolation.
This is true of pain, whether its seat be the body or
mind ; whether it be a dead, or worse still, a living
grief ; the pangs of disease, the lingering sufferings of
a common, or the terrible shock of a violent death. It
will soon be over, says a man ; and, with that, he bares
his quivering limb for the surgeon^s knife ; or, eyeing
the tall black gallows, walks with firm step and erect
mein to stand beneath the dangling noose. Saying to
himself. It will soon be over, he closes his eyes, casts
away the handkerchief, and takes the leap into eternity.

This feeling enters as an element into Christian as
well as common heroism. I knew a precious saint of
God who was often cast into the furnace, but always,
like real gold, to shine the brighter for the fire ; and
who, having now left her sorrows all behind her, has
joined the company of whom the angel said, " These
are they which come out of great tribulation, and have
washed their robes, and made them white in the blood
of the Lamb ; therefore," in the front rank as the
highest peers of heaven, " are they before the throne oi
God." The courage with which she met adversity —
one trial after another, shock succeeding shock, billow

(S8)

THE TRANSLATION. 89

bursting on the back of billow — was as remarkable as
the strength with which, though a bruised reed, she
seemed to bear it. Where did her great strength lie?
The grand secret of that serene demeanor and uncom-
plaining patience was, no doubt, a sense of the divine
favor. The peace of God kept her heart and mind
through Jesus Christ. Yet her sorrows found a solace,
life's bitterest hour a sweetness, also, in the simple
couplet that was often on her lips —

"Come what, come may:
Time and the hour runs through tlie roughest day."

This prospect of relief, this not distant end of suf-
fering, has often divested even the grave of its horrors.
" There'll be no sorrow there." Ah ! that sometimes
turns our eyes with a longing look on its deep dream-
less sleep. Supporting and restraining them by his
grace, God with one hand keeps his people up under
their sorrows, and with the other keeps them back from
anticipating their appointed time. They do not rush
on death, nor go unsummoned to the bar of judgment.
Unless reason give way, and responsibility cease, they
wait his time, and bide it as their own ; holding their
post like a sentinel who, however cold the night, or
fierce the storm, or thick the battle, refuses to desert it
till he is duly relieved. They say with Job, All the
days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change
come. Yet, with whatever bravery trials are met, and
with whatever patience they are borne, there are times
when the prospect of relief, which even the grave
affords, is most welcome. An object of aversion to
light-hearted childhood, and to him who is bounding
away over a sunny path thickly flowered with the
hopes of spring, the grave is not so to many who have

90 THE TRANSLATION.

lived to see these fair flowers witlier away, beneath
whose slow and lonely steps the joys of other days lie
strewed, like dead leaves in autumn. Blessed are the
dead that die in the Lord. There is no sorrow for
them in the tomb, or beyond it. Thus, from the grassy
sod, which no troubled bosom heaves, sorrow plucks
blossoms of refreshing odors ; thus, weary life grows
strong by feeding on the thought of death ; thus, to that
grave which remorselessly devours the happiness of the
ungodly, Christian faith can apply the language of the
strong man's riddle, saying with Sampson, when he
found the lion that he had rent with a hive of honey
within its skeleton ribs, Out of the eater came forth
meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness.

Hope may flatter in this common solace of worldly
men, that the longest road has a turning. But, turn
or not turn, God's people know that it has a termina-
tion ; and that the weary journey, with its heaviest
trials, shall end in rest. But for this, thousands had
sunk beneath their griefs. And when calamity came
with the shock of an earthquake, and reason sat stunned
and stupified on her tottering throne, how often has
that blessed prospect restrained man from turning the
wish that he were dead into a daring act ; and casting
life away from him as a burden — one greater than he
could bear.

There have been such cases. I remember in one a
scene never to be forgotten. It surpassed anything it
had been my fortune ever to witness in the most ter-
rible shapes of mortal agony, and anything also which
I had ever seen of the power of Christian endurance.
To be hanged, or ]>urned, or broken on the wheel, as
the martyrs were — some brief hours of torture, fol-
lowed by an eternity of rest — how the sufferer would

THE TRANSLATION. 91

have welcomed that ! His was no such enviable, hap-
py fortune. Death struck him — like a tree, which first
withers at the top — in the head ; and, in excruciating
sufferings protracted over weary years, he suffered the
pain of a hundred deaths. His endurance was heroic,
and never failed but once. Once, for pity's sake, for
the love she bore him, he implored his wife to tear
out his eyes — an expression of impatience, recalled as
soon as uttered ; regretted on earth, and forgiven in
heaven. Now, never as by that bed, where I have
seen him turn, and twist, and writhe, like a trodden
worm, have I felt so much the power of the consola-
tion of which I speak. Happy was it that religion
was not then to seek ; and that, beside a wife struck
dumb with grief, and little children who stood still and
saddened by the sight of a father's agony, I could bend
over a pillow, wet with the sweat of suffering, and im-
plore him to remember that these pains were not eter-
nal, and that the Saviour who loved him, and whom
he loved, would, ere long, come to take him to himself.
In such a scene what comfort in the words —

" Time and the ho\ir runs through the roughest day."

Nor is this unscriptural comfort. The transient
nature of all earthly trials is one important ingredient
of that cordial with which Paul comforts sorrowing-
believers — Our light affliction, which is but for a mo-
ment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory. Nay, may not that have been poured
by the angel's hand into the very cup of redeeming
sorrows ? When our Lord was alone in the garden,
and death's cold shadow had begun to fall, and the
gJoom of the approaching storm was settling down

92 THE TRANSLATION.

upon his soul, an angel sped from heaven to strengthen
him. He finds him prostrate before God. His face
is on the ground. In an agony of supplication he has
thrown himself at his Father's feet ; and, shrinking
from the pains of the cross, he cries, Father, if it be
possible, let this cup pass from me. At that eventful
moment, with the salvation of the world hung on its
issues, may not the angel, reverently approaching this
awful and affecting scene, have strengthened our
Saviour, and revived his fainting spirit with this com-
fort, Lord of Glory, drink ; the cup is bitter, but not
bottomless ? It is no presumption to fancy that, point-
ing to the moon as she rode in heaven, he had re-
minded our Redeemer that ere she had set and risen
again, his pangs should all be over ; and that when
next she rose, it should be to shine upon an empty cup,
and an empty cross, and Roman sentinels keeping
watch beside his sleeping form and peaceful tomb.
Something of this, indeed, our Lord seems to intimate
in the words he addressed to the traitor's band — " This
is your hour, and tlie power of darkness." They may
bind these hands ; but they shall soon be free to rend
the strongest barriers of the tomb, leaving him to
proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of
the prison to them that are bound. With the foul
shame of thorns, with spitting, and with scornful re-
jection, they may hide his glory ; but it shall burst
forth, like the sun above his dying head, from the
shadow of a strange eclipse. Let them put forth their
utmost power ; its triumph shall be brief — shut up
within the limits of a passing hour.

Does not the same idea also appear in the words
which our Lord addressed to the traitor at the supper
table? As one who, though shrinking from the suff<»

THE TRANSLATION. 93

ings of a severe operation, feels confident of relief, and
braces up his spirit to endurance by setting permanent
ease over against a passing pain, Jesus bent his eye on
Judas, and said, " That thou doest, do quickly," — do
it, and have done with it ; I know it shall not last ; I
am not to be buried but baptized in sufferings ; from
the cross where it shall bow in death — exposed on a
bloody tree ; from the grave where it shall lie in dust
— pillowed on a lonesome bed, shall mine head be
lifted above mine enemies round about me ; so that
thou doest, do quickly ; I foresee an end of sorrows,
and long to enter upon my rest. Now, the relief
which death brought to Christ, blessed be God, it
brings to all that are Christ's. The passing bell rings
out sin with all its sorrows, and rings in eternity with
all its joys. And the very same event which plunges
the unbeliever into everlasting perdition, usliers the
believer into the inheritance of the saints in light.
With gladness and rejoicing they shall be brought ;
they shall enter into the palace of the king. Before
taking up the subject of the translation, this leads me
to remark —

I. That in delivering his people from the power of
darkness, Christ saves them from eternal perdition.

The punishment whicli sin deserves, an.d which the
impenitent and unbelieving suffer, is a very awful sub-
ject— one on which I could have no pleasure in dwell-
ing. It is a deeply solemn theme ; a terrible mystery ;
one in presence of which we stand in trembling awe,
and can only say with David — Clouds and darkness
are round about him.

It is a painful thing to see the dying of a poor dog,,
or any dumb creature suffer ; but the fate of the im-

94 THE TRANSLATION.

penitent, the sorrows that admit of no consolation, the
misery that has no end - these form a subject brimful
of horrors ; the deepest, darkest, unfathomed mystery
in the whole plan of the divine government. Yet
what aflfords no pleasure may, notwithstanding, yield
profit ; and that even by reason of the pain it inflicts.
And so, in the hope of such a blessed result, let me
warn, and beseech, and implore careless sinners to be
wise, and consider this solemn matter in the day of
their merciful visitation. Better fear that punishment
than feel it ; better look into the pit than fall into it ;
better than fill your ears with syren songs of pleasure,
listen to this warning voice, " Behold, now is the ac-
cepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation."
" To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your
hearts." The chains which bind you are yet but
locked, and the gospel has a key to open them. Reject
that gospel, and what is now but locked by the hand
of sin, shall be rivetted by the liand of death — like
the fetters on the limbs of him who leaves the bar to
suffer that most awful sentence, the doom of perpetual
imprisonment. " As the tree falls, so it lies." " He
that is filthy, let him be filthy still."

People talk about the mercy of God in a way for
which they have no warrant in his word ; and, ignor-
ing his holiness, and justice, and truth, they lay this
and the other vain hope as a flattering unction to their
souls. Thinking light of sin, seeing no great harm in
it, they judge God by themselves. " Thou though test
tliat I was altogether such an one as thyself," accounts
for the manner in which many explain away the awful
revelations of Scripture about future punishment, and
in the face of such terrible words as these, " Depart
from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for

THE TRANSLATION. 95

the devil and his angels," give such a ready ear to the
devil's old falsehood, Thou shalt not surely die. The
fire, they allege, and are sure, is a mere symbol. Well,
just look by the light of that symbol at the condition
of the lost. Fire ! What does that mean ? Take it
as a symbol, grant that it is but a figure of speech,
still it has a terrible meaning, as will be manifest, if
we consider the nature and characteristic features of
that element. Let us see.

According to the imperfect science of the world's
early ages, there were four elements, of which ancient
philosophers held that all things else were compounded.
These were fire, air, earth, and water ; and from the
other three, the first is strikingly distinguished by this
peculiar and well-marked feature, that it is destructive
of all life. Let us examine this matter somewhat in
detail,

1. The element of earth is associated with life.
Prolific mother, from whose womb we come, and to
whose bosom we return, she is pregnant with life, an
exhaustless storehouse of its germs. Raise the soil,
for example, from the bottom of deepest well or dark-
est mine. And as divine truths, lodged in the heart
by a mother in early childhood, thougli they have lain
long dormant, spring up into conversion so soon as
God's time comes and the Spirit descends, so seeds,
that have lain in the soil for a thousand years, when-
ever they are exposed to the quickening influences of
heat, and light, and air, and moisture, awake from their
long sleep, and rise up into forms of grace and beauty.
Nowhere but within the narrow wall of the church-
yard— with its earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to
dust — arc death and the dust associated. Even there

96 THE TRANSLATION.

how does* life, contending for the mastery of this world,
intrude upon death's silent domains, and both in the
grass that waves above, and the foul worms that feed
below, claim the earth as her own ! This earth is far
less the tomb than a great prolific womb of life. Of
its matter life builds her shrines ; beneath its surface
myriads of creeping things have their highways and
homes ; while its soil yields bountiful support to the
forests, and flowers, and grasses, that clothe its naked
form in gayest robes of life and beauty.

2. Air, too, is an element associated with life. In-
visible substance, it is as much our food as corn or
flesh. Symbol of the Holy Spirit, it feeds the vital
flame, and is essential to the existence of all plants and
animals, whether their home be the land or water, the
ocean or its shores. They live by breathing it, wliether
it be extracted from the waters by their inhabitants,
or directly from the atmosphere by the plants and ani-
mals that dwell on the dry land. Ceasing to breathe
it, they die. With that groan, or gasp, or long-drawn
sigh, man expires. TTis breath goeth forth, he return-
eth to his earth ; in that very day his thoughts perish.
And as life exists on air, it exists in it ; nor ever pre-
sents itself in a fuller, happier aspect, than at the serene
close, for instance, of a summer day. The air is filled
with the music of a tliousand choristers ; creation's
evening hymn, sung by many voices, and in many notes,
goes up to the ear of God ; and, while the lark sup-
j>lies music from the ringing heavens, nature holds in-
nocent revels below ; and happy insects, by sparkling
stream, or the sedgy borders of the placid lake, keep
up their mazy merry dances, till God puts out the lights,
and, satiated with eryoyment, they retire to rest, wrapped

THE TRANSLATION. 97

round in the curtains of the night. Figure of the
truth that in God we live, and move, and have our
being, our world itself, with all that lives on it, is a
sphere that floats, buoyant and balanced, in an ocean

3. Water, too, is an element associated with life.
Fit emblem of saving mercies, so indispensable is water
to the continued existence of life, that unless it be fur-
nished by some source or other, all plants and animals
must speedily die. Then how does this element, which
covers more than two-thirds of the surface of our globe,
teem with life ! He has not seen one of the wonders
of creation, who has not seen a drop of water changed,
by the microscope, into a little woi'ld full of living,
active, perfect, creatures, over whom a passing bird
throws the shadow of an eclipse, and whose brief life
of an hour or day seems to them as long as to us a
century of years. Imagination attempts in vain to
form some conception of the mvriads that, all crea-
tures of God's care, inhabit the living waters — the
rushing stream, the mountain lake, the shallow shore,
the profound depths of ocean — from the minutest in-
sect which finds a home in some tiny pool, or its world
on the leaf of the swaying sea-weed, to leviathan,
around whose mighty bulk, whether in play or rage,
the deep grows hoary, and foams like a boiling pot.
How soon we abandon the attempt, and, dropping the
wings of fancy, fall on our knees before the throne to
say, 0 Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom
hast thou made them all.

Mark, now, the broad and outstanding difference
between these elements and fire. Earth and life, air
and life, water and life, are not, as we have seen, neces-
5

98 THE TRANSLATION.

sarily antagonistic ; but fire and life are. Unless under
such miraculous circumstances as those in which the
three Hebrew children walked unhurt in the furnace,
or the mountain bush, as if bathed in dew, flowered
amid the flames, life cannot exist in fire under any shape
or form. No creature feeds, or breeds, or breathes in
flames. What the winds fan, and the soil nourishes,
and the dews refresh, fire kills. It scorches whatever
it touches, and whatever breathes it, dies. Turning the
stateliest tree, and sweetest flowers, and loveliest form
of the daughters of Eve, into a heap of ashes, or a
coal-black cinder, fire is the tomb of beauty, and the
sepulchre of all life ; the only region and realm within
which death reigns, with none to dispute his sway.
And thus the characteristic feature of this element —
besides the pain it inflicts — is the destruction and death
it works.

Suppose, then, that the fire that is never quenched is
but a painted flame — grant that it is nothing but a
symbol or figure of the punishment which awaits the
impenitent and unbelieving, in what respects have they,
who have persuaded themselves of that, improved their
prospects ? It is, " as if a man did flee from a lion, and
a bear met him ; or went into the house, and leaned his
hand on the wall, and a serpent bit him." Although
the language of Scripture were figurative, yet express-
ing, as it does, the utter consumption and death of alK
hope and happiness, it is not less madness for any one
to reject the Saviour, and for the enjoyment of a pass-
ing pleasure to brave so terrible a doom. Endless
misery — the worm that never dieth, and the fire that is
never quenched — in whatever shape it comes, is an
awful thought. We cannot think of it without shudder-
ing. Oh, why should any hear of it without fleeing in-

THE TKANSLATION. ^.- 99

stantlj to Jesus ; for who among us shall dwell with the
devouring fire ? who among us shall dwell with everlast-
ing burning? I do not undertake to defend God's
procedure in this matter. He will defend it himself,
and one day justify his ways, in the judgment even of
those whom he condemns. They shall not have the
miserable consolation of complaining that they have
been hardly and unjustly dealt with. The sentence
that condemns them shall find an awful echo in their
own consciences. How they shall blame themselves,
and regret their life, and curse their folly — turning
their stings against their own bosoms, as the scorpion,
maddened with pain, is said to do, when surrounded
by a circle of fire !

Before Ave leave this subject, let us all join in thanks-
giving, both saints and sinners. Let the people praise
thee, 0 God ; let all the people praise thee. Fasci-
nated, bewitched by pleasure, do you still linger beside
the pit, notwithstanding, perhaps, that its flames are
rising fearfully lurid against the darkening skies of a
fast descending night ? Be thankful that you are not
in the pit : and falling on your knees by its horrible
brink, let its miserable captives, who envy you your
time of prayer, hear your cry for mercy, and that that
gracious long-suffering God, who has preserved you to
this day as a monument of his sparing, would now
make you a monument of his saving mercy. And how
should saints praise him! How should they praise
him, who have exchanged the horrible fear of hell for
a holy happy fear of God, and — in a good hope through
grace, that they have been delivered from the power
of darkness, and translated into the kingdom of his
dear Son — enjoy a poace that passeth understanding.
" Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose

100 THE TRANSLATION.

sin is covered." Blessed, more blessed than if he had
the wealth of Croesus, the poorest, humblest, weakest
child of God, who can say with David — He brought
me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay,
and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.
It is beautiful to see a bird spring from its grassy bed,
mounting up on strong wing into a morning sky of
amber, and ruby, and gold, and sapphir, and to hear
her, as she climbs the heavens, sing out the joy which
God has poured into her little lieart in a thrilling gush
of music ; but, oh, if God's people through more purity
enjoyed more peace of heart, were they as holy, and
therefore as happy as they might be, how would angels
stay their flight, and pause upon the wing to watch the
rise, and listen to the song of him who, as he rises,
sings — my soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare
of the fowler : the snare is broken, and we are escaped.
" Happy is that people, that is in such a case : yea,
happy is that people, whose God is the Lord."

II. Consider how we are brought into this kingdom.

Translation is the expression used to describe the
method. There is a difference between being trans-
formed and being translated ; in so far as the first des-
cribes a change of character, while the second describes
a change of state. These changes are coincident —
they take place at the same time ; but the transforma-
tion is not completed, nor are saints made perfect in
holiness, until the period arrives for a second transla-
tion. Then those who were translated at conversion
into a state of grace, are translated at death into a
state of glory. The transformation of the soul into the
image of God, and of God's dear Son, begins at the
first translation, and is finished at the second. And it

THE TEANSLATION. 101

is with man as with a rude block of marble. Raised
from its dark low quarry-bed, it is, in the first instance,
removed to the sculptor's studio. There the shapeless
mass gradually assumes, under his chisel, the features
and fofm of humanity — blow after blow, touch after
touch is given, till the marble grows into a triumph of
his genius, and seems instinct with life. And, now a
perfect image, it is once more removed, and leaves his
hand to become on its pedestal the attractive ornament
of some hall or palace.

Now, it is the change of state corresponding to the
removal of the block from the quarry, that we have
here to do with. And let us take care that the word
employed to describe the change from nature to grace
leads to no mistake. It were a great mistake to sup-
pose that God only is active while man remains passive
in this work. You may, indeed, translate a man from
one earthly kingdom to another, you may carry him,
for instance, across the channel which parts Great
Britain from France, while his senses and faculties are
steeped in slumber. The traveler falls asleep in one
country to awake in another ; and, conveyed smoothly
along the level road or over an arm of the sea —
rocked, it may be, into deeper slumber by the gentle
motion — he opens his eyes, amid a Babel of tongues,
on the strange costumes, and faces, and scenery of a
foreign land.

Not only so ; but, greater and most solemn change,
a man may be translated from this world into the next
in a state of entire unconsciousness. As I have seen a
mother approach the cradle and gently lift up the
sleeping babe to take it to her own bed and bosom, so,
muffled in the cloud of night, death has stolen on the
sleeper, and, moving with noiseless step across the

102 THE TRANSLATION.

floor, has borne him off so gently, that, on awaking, he
was in heaven, and opened his eyes on the glories of
the upper sanctuary ; and when his children, wonder-
ing what detains their father from the morning meal,
enter his chamber, they find the spirit fled, and, as one
who had done his work, his lifeless form resting on
the couch in a posture of calm repose. Such sudden
transition from time into eternity brings an awful ar-
restment to a life of sinl The sinner is like some
wretched criminal, who has been tracked to his hiding-
place. Lying asleep in the arms of guilt, he is roused
by rough hands, loud voices, and the flash of lanterns ;
starting up, he stares wildly round ; and how pale he
turns to see his bed beset, and door and window
guarded by the stern officers of justice — they are come
to drag him to prison. But to die and not know it,
not even to taste death, to be spared the bitter cup, to
be exempt from the mortal struggle, to be borne across
the deep cold waters asleep in Jesus' arms, to be
awakened from nature's unconscious slumbers by strains
of heavenly music, and the bright blaze of glory, what
a happy close of a holy life !

It is not in this quiet, gentle, placid way, that sin-
ners are translated out of darkness into the kingdom
of God's dear Son ; far otherwise. And in illustration
of that, I now remark :

1. That this translation is attended by suffering and
self-denial.

Killed by a bullet, prostrated by a blow, deprived
at once of consciousness and of existence by means of
an opiate or some other narcotic poison, man may die
to natural life quite unconsciously. But thus he never
dies to sin. Best of all deaths ! yet it is attended by

THE TRANSLATION. 103

a painful, and often a protracted struggle ; during
which he is as sensible of pain as the victim of a cross,
who, when the nails have crashed through nerve, and
flesh, and bone, hangs convulsed and quivering on its
extended arms. Hence these striking metaphors :
" They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with
the affections and lusts ; " " But God forbid that I
should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus
Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I
unto the world." I would not deter you from the cross,
or from resolving now, by the grace of God, and aids
of the Holy Spirit, to take it up, and deny yourselves
daily, and follow Jesus. On the contrary, I say, the
crown is worthy of the cross. I have no doubt that
there is far more pain suffered in going to hell than to
heaven. And, although there were not, how will one
hour of glory recompense you for all the sufferings and
sacrifices of earth ? I only wish to dissipate the delu-
sion under which some apparently live, and, living,
certainly perish, that indolence, and ease, and self-in-
dulgence may inherit the kingdom of God. Tliey
think, therefore, that they have no occasion to be anx-
ious about their souls ; and rest satisfied that it may
be, and is all right with them, though they are not con-
scious of having ever felt any serious alarm, having
made any great exertion, or suffered, indeed, any self-
denying pains whatever.

Be assured that, as it is among pangs and birth-
struggles that a man is born the first time, it is in sor-
row and pain that he is born again. " Yerily, verily,
I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, but the
world shall rejoice : and ye shall be sorrowful, but
your sorrow shall be turned into joy. A woman when
she is in travail, hath sorrow, because her hour is come ;

104 THE TRANSLATION.

but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remem-
bereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born
into the world." May it not be in part with reference
to this, that John, speaking of Jesus, said, He that
Cometh after me is mightier than I — he shall baptize
you with the Holy Ghost and with fire I To be bap-
tized with fire is another tiling from being baptized
with water. How often has the water fallen from our
hand on tlie calm brow of a sleeping infant, which,
held up in a father's arms, was returned to a mother's
bosom perfectly unconscious of its baptism — translated
into the visible church of Christ in a state of profound
repose. But a fiery baptism! that which symbolises
the descent of the Spirit in conversion, implies pain —
such convictions of sin and dread of hell, such self-
reproach, and deep remorse, as have often risen to
agony, and sometimes driven man to the verge of mad-
ness. Fire burns the flesh, penetrates to the bone, and
dries up the very marrow. Can a man take fire into
his bosom, and his clothes not be burned ? If not, how
could a soul receive the fiery baptism of the Holy
Spirit, and be unconscious of it ? Ah, fancy not that
it is to sinners only that our God is a consuming fire.
He is a consuming fire, not indeed to his people's souls,
but to his people's sins. The unholy pleasures and
habits that bind those whom he has chosen for himself
out of a world that lieth in wickedness, he will burn.
Nor are these bonds burned off them in a way as
painless as happened to the three Hebrews. They,
whom Nebuchadnezzar cast l)ound into the fiery furn-
ace, were suffering for God, and not for sin. And
preserved by Christ's presence, like his people in cor-
responding trials, they walked right pleasantly on
burning coals, and found the flames as fresh as the

THE TRANSLATION. 105

breath of a balmy morning. If you have never felt
pain, be assured that you have never parted with sin.
Nothing short of burning out will remove it. Yet,
painful as it may be, throw open your bosom for this
baptism of fire! Whatever wounds it inflicts, they
shall be healed. There is balm in Gilead, and a phy-
sician there.

2. In this translation both God and man are active.

When the hour of our Lord's ascension had come,
he rose from Olivet neither on angel's wings, nor in
the prophet's fiery chariot. He put forth no effort.
His body, as if belonging to another sphere, floated
buoyant, upwar(f through the air, until, as he bent over
his disciples in the attitude of blessing, a cloud re-
ceived him out of their sight. But no man rises in
this glorious manner from a state of nature into one
of grace ; or leaves the horrible pit, for the light, and
love, and liberty of a son of God. There is help
afforded on God's part ; but there is also an effort re-
quired on ours. We must climb the ladder which
divine love lets down.

The soul is not, as some seem to think, a piece of
softened wax, receiving the image of God as that does
the impress of a seal. We receive salvation ; still, we
must put forth our hand for it, as the starving for a
loaf of bread ; as he who dies of thirst for a cup of
water ; as a drowning man, who eagerly eyes and
rapidly seizes the falling rope — clinging to it with a
grasp that neither his weight nor the waves can loose.

" Between us and you," said Abraham to the rich
man, " there is a great gulf fixed ; so that they which
would pass from hence to you cannot ; neither can they
pass to us that would come from thence," I know that

106 THE TRANSLATION.

a gulf as impassable and profound divides the state of
sin from the state of grace ; and that no quantity nor
quality of good works that we may attempt to throw
in, can form a passage for our guilty feet. Rubbish at
the best 1 how are they lost in its unfathomed depths !
lost like the stones which travelers in Iceland fling
into those black, yawning, volcanic chasms, which de-
scend so deep into the fiery bowels of that burning
land, that no line can measure, and time never fills
them. Yet, blessed be Christ's name ! the great gulf
has been bridged. Redemption, through his blood and
merits, spans the yawning chasm. An open way in-
vites your feet. And would to God we saw men seiz-
ing that opening and opportunity ^f escape, as a
retreating army makes for the bridge when bay-
onets are bristling on the heights, and the shot is
plunging amid its disordered ranks, and clouds of
cavalry are cutting down the stragglers I Oh, what
diligence, what activity, what energy, what shouts and
cries for help in such a crisis, such a terrific scene I
They cast away their baggage ; everything is sacrificed
for life. Husbands dragging on their wives, fathers
carrying helpless children, brother raising up wounded
brother, the cry of all is for the bridge, the bridge !
And as the iron hail rattles among their flying squad-
rons, save where the rear-guard faces round to the
enemy and gallantly covers the retreat, every man
forces on his way ; until, the living wavp surging on
it, the bridge is choked with eager fugitives. Who
thinks of sitting down there, and waiting a more con-
venient season, waiting till the press and crowd is
over ? They may envy the bird that, frightened from
her brood, darts through the sulphureous cloud, and
wings her rapid way high over the swollen flood, but

THE TRANSLATION. 107

who sits down there in the idle hope that God will
send some eagle from her rocky nest, some angel from
the skies, to bear the loiterer across, and save him all
effort of his own ? No man. Every man is on his
feet. He throws himself into the crowd ; seizes every
opening in the dense, desperate, maddened throng, to
get forward ; nor relaxes the strain of his utmost
efforts, till he stand in safety on the other side — bless-
ing the man that bridged the stream.

Is not God, it may be said, sovereign and omnipo-
tent ? As such, does he not sometimes save those who
are not seeking to be saved ? and even send them back
from church to pray who came to scoff? True. He
may set aside the ordinary laws of grace, as he set
aside the ordinary laws of nature, when at his bidding
iron swam, and flames were cool, and the flinty rock
yielded drink, and the blue skies gave not dews but
corn, and unstable water stood up in solid walls like
adamant. But be it ever remembered, that in the
ordinary course of his providence, God works in grace
as in nature. To use a common but expressive adage,
God helps the man who helps himself. Even the
young bird chips its own shell, and I have heard its
voice in a feeble cry for liberty before it had burst its
prison walls ; and what violent exertions have I seen
an insect — about to enter on a new existence — make
to shuffle off its worm case, and come forth in resplen-
dent beauty to spend happy days in sunbeams, and
sleep away the short summer nights in the soft bosom
of a flower. Instinct teaches the lowest of God's
creatures to exert themselves ; and providence teaches
man, in the common affairs of life, to exert himself.
Tiie blessing is on the busy. He rea| s a harvest who
tills his field ; and sickles flash, and sheaves stand

108 THE TRANSLATION.

thick where the ploughs have gone. The history even
of Christ's miracles is pregnant with the same lesson.
Who were the lame he healed, but those who painfully
crawled to him on their knees, or crept to him on
crutches, or got kind friends to bear them on beds and
break through house-roofs, that they might get near the
Saviour ? Who were the blind whose eyes he opened,
but those whose hearts leaped within them, and who
leaped to their feet when, by the hum and rush of the
crowd, they knew that the Saviour was passing ? Be
these your pattern. Allow no difficulties about this or
that doctrine to hinder you from giving immediate at-
tention and earnest obedience to these plain command-
ments, Pray without ceasing, Labour for the bread
that never perisheth, Grive all diligence to make your
calling and election sure, Take diligent heed to do the
commandment and the law, to love the Lord your God,
and to walk in all his ways, and to keep his com-
mandments, and to cleave unto him, and to serve hira
with all your heart and with all your soul.

Why is it that many, that perliaps you, are not
saved ? Will the Lord cast off for ever ; and will he
be favorable no more ? Is his mercy clean gone for
ever ? doth his promise fail for evermore ? Hath God
forgotten to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his
tender mercies ? Is heaven full ? Is there no room for
more? Or, has the blood of Christ lost its efficacy,
or God his pity ? No. It is miserable to see how
carefully gold and jewels are preserved, while souls are
thrown away, as of no value. Men are not saved ;
but why ? They will give themselves no trouble — take
no pains to be saved. This change is indeed a birth ;
but remember that it is not like the birth of the body
—the pangs there are all the mother's. This change

THE TRANSLATION, 109

is a translation, but forget not that it is not such as
Elijah's, when that deathless man had only to step into
the chariot, and angels shook the reins, and horses of
fire whirled him at his ease through the skies to heaven .
I am persuaded that there would be many more saved,
if fewer of us abused the doctrines of man's depravity,
and God's free, sovereign, saving grace. It is the gos-
pel, that Without shedding of blood there is no remis-
sion ; it is the gospel, that Except a man be born again,
he cannot see the kingdom of God ; it is the gospel,
that Not by works of righteousness which we have done,
but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing
of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost ;
but remember, I pray you, that, according to the same
gospel, those who receive are they who ask, and those
who find are they who seek. It is to the knocking
hand that the door is opened.

In whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness

of sins.— COLOSSIANS L 14.

One who had been a great traveler, who had visited
all the capitals of Europe, who had studied the most
famous wonders of ancient art, and, no stranger to
nature's grandest scenery in the Old World, had filled
his ear with the roar, and his eye with the foaming
cataract of Niagara, once declared, in my hearing, that
near by the latter and most glorious spectacle he had
seen the finest sight he ever saw. He was crossing from
the American to the Canadian shore ; and the same
boat was carrying over a fugitive slave. The slave
had burst his chain, and fled. Guided northwards by
the pole-star, he had threaded his way through tangled
forests and the poisonous swamp — outstripping the
blood-hounds that bayed behind him, and followed long
upon his track. Now about to realize his long-cherished
and fondest hopes, to gratify his burning thirst for
liberty, the swarthy negro stood in the bow of the boat,
his large black eyes intently fixed upon the shore. She
ncars it. But ere her keel has grated on the strand,
impatient to be free, he gathers up all his strength
bends for the spring, and, vaulting into the air, by one
mighty bound, one glorious leap for liberty, he reaches
the shore, and stands erect upon its bank — a free man.

The liberty for which the slave longed, and labored,
(110) ^

REDEMPTION. Hi

and braved so much, is perhaps the sweetest earthly
cup man drinks. It has, indeed, been often said, that
health is the greatest earthly blessing. It is a precious
boon. How did the woman of the Gospels spend all
she had in search of it ; and how would thousands, now
languishing on beds of sickness, and sinking into the
grave under an incurable malady, buy this possession
at as great a price ? Without health, what is money ?
what, luxury ? what, rank and sounding titles ? what a
crown, if it sits heavy on throbbing brows and an ach-
ing head ? Yonder poor and humble cottager, browned
by the sun, with ruddy health glowing on his unshaven
cheeks, who, seated at his simple board, uncovers his
head to wipe the sweat of labor from his brow, or to
bless the God who feeds him and his little ones, might
be an object of envy to many. In vain they court coy
sleep on beds of down, and try to whet a failing appe-
tite by costly luxuries — sighing, they say, what is
money without health ? That speech may come very
well from those who never knew what it is to be a
slave ; but what is health without liberty — health in
chains ?

We sympathize even with the strong instinctive love
of freedom which appears in the lower animals — the
bounding noisy joy of the household dog when he gets
off his chain ; the sudden change on the weary horse,
when shaking off his fatigue with his harness, he tosses
his head, and, with buoyant spirits and flowing mane,
careers amid his fellows over the pasture field. It has
moved our pity to see a noble eagle chained to the
perch, and, as she expanded her broad sails, turn up a
longing eye to the golden clouds her wing shall never
more cleave, to the bright blue sky where she shall
never more soar. I have felt a deeper sympathy with

112 REDEMPTIOIf.

the free-born denizen of the air, that, pining for his
native haunts, declines his food, refuses to be tamed,
and, dashing against the bars, dies — strangled in strug-
gles to escape, then with the tamed and gentle captive
which takes its food from some fair jailer's hand, aiid
sings the song of golden moors and green woodlands
within an iron cage.

Much more, of course, do we sympathise with our
fellow-creatures — with the Hebrew exiles, for instance,
who hung their harps on the willows by Babylon's
sluggish streams, nor could sing the songs of Sion in a
strange land ; with all those, whether slaves or citizens,
who have made the altars of Liberty red with their
blood, preferring death to bondage. If I can judge
from the interest with which I watched the progress,
and, I confess it, all but wished for the escape of a man
who, with the officers of justice at his heels, was running
a race for freedom, I believe that unless the offence is
one which nature taught us to avenge, it would cost a
struggle between one's sense of duty as a subject, and
one's sympathy with man's love of liberty, to arrest a
runaway prisoner. But who would arrest a runaway
slave ? Who, that ever tasted the sweets of liberty,
would not help him ? What is the color of his skin
to me ? He is a brother wronged, a man oppressed ;
nor were he a man who would not in such circumstances
espouse the side of innocent weakness against tyrannous
strength, and hide him, and feed him, and lodge him,
and help him, from chains, and stripes, and slavery, on
to freedom.

If so, who would be himself a slave ? What value
should we set on health if we had to rise to our work
in the rice swamp, in the cane or cotton field, at the
sound of the horn, and were driven to it, like oxen,

REDEMPTION. 113

with the crack of the whip ? Health ! what value
would a man set on a life itself, were his children to
be torn from his arms, set up to auction, and knocked
down to the highest bidder ; sold before his eyes to
slavery ; if he must stand by and hear their mother's
piercing shrieks, as with bended knees and outstretched
hands she implores, in vain implores, for pity ; stand
by and hear his own mother cry for mercy, as the
breast that nursed him bleeds under the cutting lash ;
who would value life a straw, if he must stand by, nor
speak a word, nor shed a tear, nor from his bursting
bosom heave a groan, nor lift a hand in their defense ?
How sad it is to think that there are lands, governed
by Christian men, and in the prostituted name of liberty,
where such scenes are witnessed, and crimes so foul are
done ! It almost tempts one to pray that an avenging
Heaven would blight, and wither, and blast the fields
that are watered with human tears : " Ye mountains
of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain
upon you, nor fields of offerings." May God give a
noble country grace and power to wife from its shield
so black a stain !

In these sentiments I have no doubt you all sympa-
thise ; but I have to tell- you of a worse and more de-
grading, a more cruel and dreadful slavery. There are
among us many greater and more to be pitied slaves.
I refer to those who, as the servants of Satan, are sold
unto sin. Would to God that we set the same high
price on spiritual as we do on earthly liberty I Ah, then
what efforts would be put forth, what struggles would be
made, what long, earnest, unw^earying prayers be offered
for salvation ! And, when saved ourselves, how anxious
should we be for the salvation of others? In the
touching narrative of a fugitive slave I have read how,

114 REDEMPTION.

when he himself had escaped, the thought of his mother,
a mother dear, and sisters, still in bondage, haunted
him night and day, embittering the sweetness of his
own cup. He found no rest. Liberty to him was
little more than a name, until they also were free.
And surely one may wonder how Christians can give
God any rest, or take it themselves, while those near
and dear to them are in the gall of bitterness, and
in the bond of iniquity? And why is it, moreover,
that when his servants appear, proclaiming, through
Christ, liberty to the captives, and the opening of the
prison to them that are bound, so few hearts leap for
joy, and so many hear it — as if they needed it not,
heard it not, heeded it not — with calm, cold, frigid in-
difference ? Go, proclaim emancipation in a land of
slaves> and the news shall fly like wildfire, sweep on
like flames over the summer prairie. At such glad
tidings how the bed-rid would leap from his couch, the
lame throw away his crutches, the old grow young, the
people go mad with joy ! Mothers, with new feelings
would kiss tlieir babes, and press them to their bosoms ;
brothers, sisters, friends, would rush into each other^s
arms, to congratulate each the other that they were
free, and, weeping the first tears of joy their eyes had
ever shed, would they not make hut and hall, forest and
mountain, ring with the glorious name of him who had
fought their long hard battle, nor ceased, nor relaxed
his efl'orts till he had achieved their freedom ? Jesus I
with what jubilant songs, then, should we celebrate thy
name, and enshrine thy memory in our best affections !
What great, glad tidings these, redemption through
thy blood I Oh that God would inspire us with such a
love of it, and give us so great enjoyment in it, that
with some foretaste of the joys, we might sing this

REDEMPTION. 115

song of heaven, Unto him that loved us, and washed us
from our sins in his own blood, and hath made us kings
and priests unto God and his Father, to him be glory
and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.

In directing your attention to this subject, I re-
mark :

I. That we all need redemption.

To a man nigh unto death, who is laboring under
some deadly malady, and knows it, offer a medicine
which has virtue to cure him, and he will buy it at any
price. In his eyes that precious drug is worth all the
gold on earth. But offer that, which he grasps at, to
one who believes himself to be in robust and perfect
health, and he holds it cheap. Just so, and for a
similar reason, the Saviour and his redemption are
slighted, despised and rejected of men. Some of you
have no adequate conception of your lost state as sin-
ners, nor do you feel, therefore, your great need of
salvation. The first work, accordingly of God's Holy
Spirit in conversion, is to rouse a man from the torpor
which the poison of sin — like the venom of a snake
infused into the veins — produces, to make him feel
his illness, to convince him of his guilt, to make him
sensible of his misery. And blessed the book, blessed
the preacher, blessed the providence that sends that
conviction into our hearts, and lodges it, like a barbed
arrow, there. For, to an alarmed conscience, to a soul
convinced of sin and misery, who so welcome as the
Saviour ? Let a man, who fancied that he was in no
danger, see himself to be in great danger, know that he
is a poor, polluted, perishing sinner, lost by nature,
lying under sentence of death, deserving the wrath of
God. and, like one standing over a volcano, separated

116 REDEMPTION.

from hell only by a thin crust of earth, which, becom-
ing thinner and thinner, as the fire eats it away, is
already bending, cracking beneath his feet, ah ! he
understands the import of the words, Unto you, there-
fore, which believe, he is precious. Now, that Christ
may be so to you, and that the grace of God, which
bringeth salvation, may not come to you in vain, let
me show how all of us require to be redeemed from the
slavery of sin and Satan. And I remark :

1, That this slavery is the natural state of man.

We pity, how greatly do we pity, the mother, as
one robbed of a mother's best joys, who knows that
the little creature which hangs on her bosom is a slave ;
and only smiles because unconscious of its sad estate.
But this calamity is ours. The progeny of slaves are
slaves themselves. And we, having sprung from
parents who, in the expressive language of Scripture,
had sold themselves for nought, leave our mother's
womb in bondage to sin. Accordingly, David says,
" Behold, I was shapen in iniquity ; and in sin did my
mother conceive me." Let me recall to your recollec-
tion the testimony on this subject of one who, so far
as civil liberty and Roman citizenship were concerned,
was free born. You know how Paul stood on his
rights as a Roman. He dared them to scourge him as
they would a slave. Yet, speaking of himself, as be-
fore God, and in the eye of a holy law, he says, I am
carnal, sold under sin. And — not to multiply exam-
ples— in what terms does he address his converts?
" Ye were," he says, " the servants of sin," or as we
would express it, ye were the slaves of sin. The
slaves I for observe, I pray you, that the word whicli
is there translated servant, means not a servant simply,

REDEMPTION. 117

but a servant who is a slave ; not one hired for a
period, whom the next term sets free to leave or stay,
but one bound, branded with the mark of a perpetual
bondage ; and so the apostle says, " God be thanked
that ye were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed
from the heart that form of doctrine which was de-
livered you," " Being then made free from sin, y^ be-
came the servants of righteousness." David uses
stronger terms. In one of his psalms, he uses this
very strong expression, " I was as a beast before thee."
And, though few of us have the deep sense of sin
which that holy man had, there is no child of God
who recalls the past to memory — what he was, and
how he felt antecedent to his conversion, who looks
back beyond that blessed day when the truth made him
free, but will be ready to acknowledge that he was a
man in bonds. Not master of himself, and free to fol-
low the dictates of conscience and God's word, he
slaved in the service of the devil, the world, and the
flesh — three hard taskmasters. On that ever memor-
able day fetters stronger than iron were struck from
his limbs.

I do not affirm that the most advanced saint is alto-
gether free from the bondage of sin. No. The holiest
believer carries that about with liim which painfully
reminds him of his old condition. I have seen a noble
dog which had broken loose and restored itself to his
liberty, dragging the chain, or some links of it, along
with him. I have read of brave, stout captive^i wlio had
escaped from prison, but who brought away with them,
in swollen joints or festering wounds, the marks and
injuries of the cruel fetters. And do not old sins thus
continue to hang about a man even after grace has
delivered him from their dominant power ? Have you

118 REDEMPTION.

not felt that these called for constant watchfulness and
earnest prayer ? Who does not need every day and
hour to resort to the fountain of cleansing, and wash
his heart in the blood of Christ oftener than he washes
his hands in water ? We need to be renewed day by
day ; converted, as it were, not once, or twice, but —
every day. Surely the happiness of a child of God
lies mainly in this, that sin, though it remains within
his heart, has ceased to reign there, and that, made
perfect at length in holiness, he shall enter by the dis-
mal gate of death into the full and glorious liberty of
the children of God.

2. This slavery is the universal state of man.

Both sacred and profane history show that slavery,
as it is one of the worst, is one of the oldest human,
not humane, institutions. At an early period of man's
history, in Cain, he who should have been his brother's
keeper became his murderer. And wlien afterwards
man did become his brother's keeper, alas ! it was too
often as an owner — selling, buying, oppressing him.
It is long, very long since men and women, with
broken hearts, turned a wishful eye on the grave as a
welcome refuge — where the wicked cease from troubl-
ing, and the weary be at rest. But while there might
be lands that slavery never cursed, and while there
were in every slave land a number who in a sense were
free, the slavery of sin spared no land. There are no
" free-soilers," so far as sin is concerned. It has ex-
empted no class. The king on his throne, as much as
the beggar on his dunghill, is a slave. The loveliest
woman as much as the vilest outcast, the })roudest peer
aiid poorest peasant, the man of letters and the man
so ignorant as not to know the letters, Jew and Greek,

REDEMPTION. 119

bond and free, are all branded and bound ; and, like
the gang of miserable captives which the slave-dealer
is driving to the sea-board, they are moving on to
eternity — bound in one long chain with every minor
distinction sunk in the one misery, that all are sold
under sin. In this, every difference of race, and rank,
and color, is merged. Every man's lieart is black —
whatever his face may be.

It matters little, indeed, nothing before God, whether
a man has a dark face or a pale one ; but it is all import-
ant whether he has a black heart or no — whether our
sin-stained souls have or have not been washed white
in the blood of Jesus Christ. What avails it that you
are not bound in fetters of man's forging, if you are
bound in the devil's chain ? The difference, yonder,
between the white master with his lash, and the poor,
trembling, crouching black, over whom he cracks it,
is lost in this, that both are under bondage to sin.
And I dare to say that of the two, the bigger, blacker,
baser slave is he, who, boastful of his vaunted freedom,
and proud of his blood and color, holds a brother in
chains. The driver is more a slave than the driven ;
the oppressor than the oppressed. What chain, I ask,
has been forged for human limbs so strong, degrading,
intensely hateful in the sight of God, as the base
cupidity which breeds human beings, like cattle, for
the market ; and grasps at wealth, altliough its price
be groans and tears and blood and broken hearts ?

3. This slavery is the actual state of all unconverted
men.

Some are slaves of one sin ; some of another ; and the
forms of slavery are as many and varied as the sins which
people are addicted to. Let me give a few examples.

120 r.KDEMPTION.

(1.) Some are slaves of gold. How they drudge for
it 1 Their tyrant, the love of money, rules them with
a rod of iron. Naturally kind, they feel disposed to
assist the poor ; but, No, says their master ; and with
an iron heel he crushes the tenderest feelings of their
heart. Visited occasionally with solemn thoughts,
and not altogether dead to the claims of Christ, they
would part with something worthy of their wealth
and of his cause ; but what is Christ to Mammon ?
Again, their master says, No ; you must make more
money ; toil on, ye slaves ; you may not trust man,
and you cannot trust God ; toil on ; you must be as
rich as that man, and leave a fortune for your heirs to
quarrel about over your grave, or squander in folly
and dissipation. And thus, blushing at his mean ex-
cuse, the poor wretch — for I call him poor who has
money which he cannot use — sends Christ's cause away
to beg with more success at a much poorer door.
Talk of slaves and slave-masters ! What bondage like
that which condemns a man to do what he condemns
himself for doing, to harden his heart against the
claims of pity, to deny his own flesh and blood, to lie,
cheat, and defraud, or, if not that, every day of his
life to run counter to the divine saying. What shall it
profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and
lose his own soul ? From such bondage, good Lord,
deliver us ! " Thou, 0 man of God, flee these things,
and follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love,
patience, meekness ;" " fight the good fight of faith ;"
and, like gold which a drowning man will drop to
clutch the rope flung to him from ship or shore, let go
the world. With thy hands set free, lay hold on eter-
nal life.

(2.) Some are the slaves of lust. To what base

REDEMPTION. 121

society does it condemn them ? To what act of mean-
est treachery and blackest villany do their tyrant pas-
sions drive them ? Think of a man drowning his con-
science, and by that deed effacing from his soul the
most distinct remaining traces of the image of God !
Of all sinners, these are most like their master, tlie
Devil, when he changed himself into a serpent, Avith
its lying tongue and smooth glittering skin, to win a
woman's trust. They creep into the bosom which they
intend to sting, and put forth their powers to fascinate
some happy singing bird, who goes fluttering, but,
spell-bound, cannot help going, into their open devour-
ing jaws. Better be a slave and die heart-broken,
than be a heart-breaker. The thief — the mean, sneak-
ing, pilfering thief — that steals my money, is a man of
honor compared with him who steals a woman's virtue,
and robs a household of its peace.

(3.) Some are slaves of drunkenness. Of all sla-
very this is the most helpless, and the most liopeless.
Other sins drown conscience, but this reason and con-
science too. More, perhaps, than any other vice, this
blots out the vestiges of that divine image in which we
were originally formed, and reduces man to the lowest
degradation — lower than a beast. Smiting him with
the greatest impotency, in such slavery as that of iron
to a magnet is the poor besotted drunkard to liis cups.
He who is a slave to man, may retain his self-respect,
cherish his wife, and love his children ; and, raising
his fettered hands in prayer to heaven, may preserve
and present in his very chains the image of God ; but
yonder wretch, with beggary hung on his back, and
dissipation stamped on his bloated face — dead to sliame,
or, hanging his head, and passing old acquaintances
with averted eye — degraded before tlie world, and ex-
6

122 REDEMPTION.

pelled from the communion of the church — lying in
the gutter — or beating his wife, or cursing his flying
children, and in his sober moments cursing himself —
ah, he is a slave indeed. What hope for a man who
reels up to the bar of judgment, and staggers drunk
into his Maker's presence ? Let his fate excite your
fears as well as pity. I say with the apostle, " Let
him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall."
Have I not seen many, whose spring budded with the
fairest promises, live to be a shame, and sorrow, and
deep disgrace ? And, though it were revealed from
heaven that you yourself should never fall, is there
nothing due to others ? Does not that bloody cross,
with its blessed victim, call upon every Christian to
live not to himself, but to think of other's things, as
well as of his own ? Every man must judge for him-
self; to his own master he standeth or he falleth.
But when I think of all the beggary, and misery, and
shame, and crime, and sorrow, of wliich drunkenness
is the prolific mother, of the many hearts it breaks, of
the happy homes it curses, of the precious souls it
ruins, I do not hesitate to say that the question of
abstinence deserves the prayerful consideration of
every man ; and that, moreover, he appears to me to
consult most the glory of God, the honor of Jesus, and
the best interests of his fellow-men, who applies to all
intoxicating stimulants the Apostolic rule, Touch not,
taste not, handle not. In regard to no sin can it be
so truly said that our adversary the devil, as a roaring
lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour.

(4.) Some are slaves to the opinions of the world.
It was the boast of tlie Macedonian that he had con-
quered the world ; tlie world can boast that it has
conquered them. Subservient to its opinions, theirs is

REDEMPTION. 123

the miserable condition of an unhappy servant, who
has to bear in some ill-governed household the caprices,
not of one mistress, but of many. The fear of the
Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but the fear of man
bringeth a snare. How many of the young are ruined,
just because they have not the courage to say. Nay, to
do what they know to be right — allowing themselves
to be laughed out of their virtuous habits, and early
holy training. Then, into what misery do we see
parents plunge themselves and their families by a
course of extravagance, into which they are drawn by
the whirpool of fashion. To sacrifice the well-being
of your children to a wretched vanity, to do mean or
dishonest things that you may appear genteel, to pre-
fer the approbation of the world to that of your own
conscience, to incur the wrath of God that you may
win a man's or woman's smiles, to stand more in fear
of the hiss of dying men than of the deadly serpent —
this slavery, common in the world, is one to wliich
Christ's freemen should not yield — no, not for an hour.
Hear how God asks, as in surprise, " Who art thou,
that thou shouldest be afraid cf a man that shall die,
and of the son of man which shall be made as grass ;
and forgettest the liOrd, thy maker, that hath stretclied
forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the
earth ?"

Yet see, how men of the roblest genius and proudest
intellect have crouched, slave like, before the world,
laying their heads in tlie very dust at her feet. When
Byron, for instance, stood aloft on the pinnacle of his
fame, he confessed that the disapprobation of tlie mean-
est critic gave him more pain than the applause of all
the others gave him pleasure. Miserable confession,
and miserable man ! not less a slave that laurela

124 REDEMPTION.

wreathed his brow, and that a star glittered on his
breast. What a contrast do we see in Paul? He
was a freeman ! Like some tall rock, he stands erect ;
unmoved from his place, or purpose, or judgment, or
resolution, by the storm of a world's disapprobation
raging fiercely around him. " With me," he says, " it
is a very small thing that I should be judged of you,
or of man's judgment ; ... he that judgeth me is the
Lord." What more grandeur is here ! What a testi-
mony to the elevating power of piety I What a glo-
rious illustration of the poet's words,

" He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves besides."

In old times, men and women were said to have sold
their souls to Satan, consenting tliat he should have
them at death, on condition of receiving a power to
command, in their lifetime, any wealth, any honors, any
pleasure their hearts might desire. As the story goes,
the devil held them to the bargain ; and when they
died, the old castle shook, and the screech-owls hooted,
and the dogs howled, and the lights burned blue, and
the tempest roared, and people crossed themselves as
they heard the shrieking spirit borne away through the
black night to hell. An old superstition I True ; yet
fables are often less wonderful than facts ; and there
are things more incredible in real life tjian you or I
have read in the wildest romance. Did Satan, accord-
ing to these old legends, drive a hard bargain? With
sinners, now, he drives a harder. Deluded, defrauded,
cheated, the poor sinner has no lifetime, no season of
profit and pleasure. He sells himself for nouglit. ]
could till this house with living proofs of it. They
swarm in our streets in tlieir rags and wretchedness.

REDEMPTION. 125

And what though many, who are living a life of sin,
are apparently happy and prosperous ? If their hearts
had a window whereby we could look within, and see
the fears that agitate them, the gnawing of remorse,
the stings of conscience, the apprehensions of discovery
and impending evil that haunt the steps and cloud the
path of guilt, we should conclude that, though there
were neither hell nor hereafter, the way of transgres-
sors is hard. From their way I pray all here to turn.
Why will ye die ? Why ? when Christ is willing, wish-
ful, waiting to save. Sin's is a miserable thraldom.
If its wretched slaves, you are the objects of deepest
compassion. Nor ever more so than when, intoxicated
with the pleasant but poisoned cup, you sing and laugh
and dance in chains. To men in your circumstances,
and with your appalling prospects, how may we apply
the words, I said of laughter. It is mad ; and of mirth.
What doeth it ? God help you 1 God bring you to a
better mind ; that, raising your fettered arms and weep-
ing eyes to heaven for help to burst these fatal, accursed
bonds, you may be free — blessed with holy liberty, and
true peace, and pure pleasure, and lasting joys — re-
deemed and ransomed by the blood of Christ.

^ftriiSt tkt ^i^ilttmtt

In whom we have redemption tL'-ough his blood, even the forgiveneM
of sins.— Colossi ANS i. 14.

No place touches us with a more melancholy sense
of the fleeting nature of earthly glory, than an old de-
serted castle. All is gone but the main keep. Stoutly
battling with time, as one not easily subdued, it stands
erect in its ruin amid the grass-green mounds, that, like
graves of the past, show where other buildings once
have stood. Gray with moss, or mantled with ivy,
the strong thick walls are slowly mouldering ; and
there is deep desolation in these silent courts. No step
but our own treads the floor that in other days shook
to the dancers' feet ; nor sound is heard in halls which
once rung with music, and sweet voices, and morry
laughter, but the moaning wind, which seems to wail
for the wreck around it ; or the sudden rush and flap-
ping of some startled bird that flies at our intrusion
from her lonely nest. If happily an empty chain hangs
rusting in the dungeon where captives once had pined
how cold the hearth around whose roaring fires in long
winter nights many a tale was told, and many a bright
group had gathered, and the mother nursed her babe,
and the father told his rapt and listening boys of stir-
ring scenes in flood and field I In the grass-grown
court below, where once they had mustered gay for
the bridal, or grim for battle, the sheep are quietly
a 26)

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 127

feeding. And here on the battlement some pine, or
birch, or mountain ash, rooted in a crevice and fed by
decay, lifts its stunted form, where the banner of an
ancient house floated proudly in days of old, or spread
itself out, defiant, as the fight raged around the belea-
gured walls, and the war-cry of assailants without was
answered by the cheers of gallant men within. Now
all is changed — the stage a ruin, spectators and actors
gone. They sleep in the grave ; their loves, and wars,
their fears, and joys, and sorrows — where ours, too,
Boon shall be — buried in its cold oblivion.

"Their memory and their name is gone,
Alike unknowing and unknown."

And, greatest change of all, the heirs of those who
reared that massy pile, and rode helmed to battle with
a thousand vassals at their back, liave sunk amid the
wrecks of fortune. Fallen into meanness and obscu-
rity, as humble rustics, they now, perhaps, plough the
lands which once their fathers held.

Such changes have happened in our country. But
changes corresponding to these never happened in
ancient Israel. It was there, as in the heavens above
us, whose luminaries, after a certain period of time lias
elapsed, always return to the same place in the firma-
ment, and the same relative position to each other.
The sun, for instance — although clianging his place
daily — shall rise and set, twelve months from tliis date,
at the same hour, and appear at his meridian in the
same spot as to-day. Corresponding to that, or like
the revolution of a wheel, whicli restores every spoke
to its former place, society — whatever change mean-
while took place in personal liberty or hereditary
property — returned among the old Hebrews to the

128 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

very same state in which it was at the commencement
of those fifty years, whose close brought in the jubilee.
" Then," said Moses, " shalt thou cause the trumpet of
the jubilee to sound on the tenth day of the seventh
month, in the day of atonement shall ye make the trum-
pet sound throughout all your land. And ye shall hal-
low the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout
all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof ; it shall
be a jubilee unto you ; and ye shall return every man
unto his possession, and he shall return every man unto
his family.''

In consequence either of his crimes or his misfortunes,
the Hebrew was occasionally obliged to part with his
paternal estate. His was sometimes a still greater
calamity, for not only was his property sold, but his
liberty. He became the bond servant of some more
fortunate brother. So matters stood till the fiftietli
year arrived and the jubilee was blown. At that trum-
pet sound, how fondly anticipated ! how gladly heard !
the fetters fall from his limbs, and the slave of yester-
day is to-day a freeman. At that trumpet sound the
beggar doffs his rags, the weary laborer throws down
his tools. Marriage bells never rang so merry as that
blessed peal ; it has changed the serf into a freeholder,
a man of substance and position. And, as blown with
the breath of liberty, trumpet replied to trumpet, and
the sound of the jubilee, rising from valley to mountain,
echoed among the rocky hills, and spread itself over
the land from beyond Jordan's bank to the shores of tlie
sea, from the roots of snowy Lebanon to the burning
desert, every man bade adieu to beggary, and wander-
ing and exile. Like parted streams, divided families
were reunited ; long alienated possessions were restored
to their original owners, and amid universal rejoicing?,

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 129

feastings, mirth, music and dances, every man returned
to spend the rest of his days in his father's house, and
when he died to mingle his own with ancestral dust.
What a singular institution ! As a civil arrangement,
acting as a check both on excessive wealth and on ex-
cessive poverty, it was without a parallel in any ancient
or modern nation. But it was more — it was a symboli-
cal institution. More than in many respects a great
social blessing, it had a deep, holy, spiritual meaning.
Celebrated on the great day of atonement — that day
when the goat, typical of Jesus, bore away the sins of
the people — it was the symbol of a better restitution,
and a better redemption ; and was, in fact, a striking,
very beautiful, most benignant figure of the redemption
which we have through the blood of Christ, even the
forgiveness of sins.

Before turning your attention to the redemption, of
which that jubilee was sucli a remarkable figure, let me,
by way of warning, remark :

I. Our redemption is not, like that of the Hebrews,
a simple matter of time.

Every fifty years, and in certain cases every seven
years, redeemed the Hebrew, and restored him to the
enjoyment of his property. " If thy brother," said
God, " an Hebrew man, or an Hebrew woman, be sold
unto thee, and serre thee six years, then in the seventh
year thou shalt let him go free from thee. And when
thou sendest him out free from thee, thou shalt not let
him go away empty." Thus, time set free the Hebrew
slave, and as its finger moved over the face of the sun-
dial, pointed him onwards to freedom. Everywhere,
and in its most ordinary course, time works many
changes, the young grow old, and raven locks grow
6*

130 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

gray ; the poor rise into wealth, while the rich sink
into poverty ; old families disappear, and new ones
start up like mushrooms. And, constantly changing the
condition of society, as he turns the wheel of fortune,
Time is altering the form even of this great globe itself.
The proudest mountains are bending before his sceptre,
and yielding to his silent but resistless sway. Nor is
there a tiny stream that trickles over the rock, and
often hid under the broad fern, and nodding grasses,
and wild flowers that grow on its narrow banks, be-
trays itself only by the gentle murmur with which it
descends to join the river that receives its tribute, and
rolls it onward to the ocean, but — teaching us in the
highest matters not to despise the day of small things
— is wearing down the mountain and filling up the sea.
Through the agencies of heat and cold, dews and rains,
summer showers and winter snows, Time is remodelling
the features of our world, and— perhaps in that symbol-
izing the onward progress and future condition of
society — reducing its various inequalities to one great
common level.

But amid these changes shall years change, as a
matter of course, the condition of a sinner ? Shall they
redeem him, for instance, from his slavery, or even
relax the chains of sin ? In the course of time you
will grow older, but not of necessity bettor. On the
contrary, while the Hebrew slave was, by every year
and day he lived, brought nearer to redemption, and
could say, on such a day and at such an hour I shall
be fi-ee, it is a solemn and awful fact, that the longer
you live in sin, the more distant, more difficult, more
hopeless does your salvation become. " The last state
of that man is worse than the first." Let us not flatter
ourselves with the very common hope, I shall grow

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 181

better as I grow older. That is very unlikely to hap-
pen. The unconverted are less likely to be saved at
the jubilee age of fifty than at five-and-twenty, in their
seventieth than in their seventh year. " Oh that they
were wise, that they understood this, that they would
consider their latter end !'' Do you say, in reply, But
what then am I to do ? Can I redeem myself? As-
suredly not. But are we, because we can be redeemed
only through the blood of Christ, to sit still ; as if that
redemption would come like a jubilee in the common
course of providence, or time, or nature ? No. We
are to be up and doing, since, in a sense, it is true of a
soul's as of a nation's liberty,

" Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow,"

I do not say that we are to rise like an oppressed
nation which wrings its liberties from a tyrant's h^nd,
nor that we can purchase redemption, as we bought
with our millions the freedom of West Indian slaves ;
nor that through works of righteousness that we do
or have done, we can establish any claim Avhatever to
its blessings. By care and industry you may acquire
goods, not goodness ; money, but never merit — merit
in the sight of God. And yet I say, in God's name,
" labor not for the meat which perisheth, but for thq.t
meat which endureth unto everlasting life ;" " work
out your own salvation with fear q^nd trembling ;"
" give diligence to make your calling and election
sure ;" " take diligent heed to do the commandment
and the law, to love the Lord your God, and to w^tlk
in all his ways, and to keep his commandments, and to
cleave unto him, and to serve him with all your heart,
and with all your soul." There are various ways of
being diligent. Qne man, seated £^t the loom, is busy

132 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

with the shuttle ; another, at the desk, with his pen ;
another, in the field, at his plough ; another bends to
the oar, and, ploughing the deep, reaps his harvest on
the stormy waters ; another, seen through the smoke
of battle, is straining all his energies on the bloody
field, winning honors with the bayonet's rush and at
the cannon's mouth. And, though men may call him
idle, yonder poor beggar, who, in orphan child or in-
firm old man, claims our pity and reproves our indo-
lence, is busy also, diligent as the others. His hand is
not idle, it is busy knocking ; nor are his feet, they
bear him weary from house to house, from door to door ;
nor is his tongue, it pleads his poverty, and tells his
tale of sorrow ; while, pressed by necessity and earnest
of purpose, out of his hollow eyes he throws such looks
of misery, as move compassion and melt the heart.

And such as that suppliant's, along with the use of
other means, are the labors, the diligence, to which
God's gracious mercy and your own necessities call
you, Unable to save yourselves, it is yours to besiege
with prayers the throne of grace. Learn from Simon
Peter what to do, and where to turn ; not Peter sleep-
ing in the garden, but Peter sinking in the sea. One
who in his boyhood had learned to breast the billow,
and feel at home upon the deep, he makes no attempt to
swim ; the shore lies beyond his reach, nor can the
boldest swimmer live amidst these swelling waters.
His companions cannot save him ; their boat, un-
manageable, drifts before the gale, and they cannot
gave themselves. He turns his back on tliem. He
directs nor look nor cry to them, but fixing his eyes on
that divine form which, calm, unmoved, master of the
tempest, stops majestically on from billow to billow,
the drowning man throws out his arms tq Jesus, and

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 138

cries, " Lord, save me !" Did he cry in vain ? No
more shall you. Jesus came to seek and to save that
which was lost ; nor did he ever say unto one of the
sons of men, Seek ye me in vain. He oflered liis soul
for sin, and came to redeem us from all iniquity. Lot
us now

II. Consider Christ as the Redeemer ; not as a
Redeemer, but the Redeemer.

There is no other. " There is none other name
under heaven given among men, whereby we must be
saved. " All the types and symbols of the Saviour
teach you this. There was one ark in tlie flood — but
one ; and all perished save those wlio sailed in it.
There was one altar in the temple — but one : and no
sacrifices were accepted but those offered there — " the
altar," as the Bible says, that " sanctified the gift."
There was one way through the depths of the Red Sea
— but one ; and only where the water, held back by the
hand of God, stood up in crystal walls, was a passage
opened for those that were ready to perish. And even
so, there is but '' one mediator between God and men,
the man Christ Jesus ; " as our catechism says, " The
only Redeemer of God's elect is the Lord Jesus
Christ."

This truth is, in a certain sense, and to some extent,
acknowledged by all churches which call themselves
Christian. They all profess to give Jesus the honors
of salvation ; not excepting, on the one hand, those
which, denying the divinity of our Lord and tlie doc-
trine of the atonement, extract its vitality from the
Gospel ; nor, on the other hand, those Greek and Ro-
man churches, which, by their additions and traditions,
liave buried the Rock of Ages beneath a great heap of

134 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

rubbish. While, however, they appear to regard oui
Lord Jesus Christ as the Redeemer, and so seem to
travel on in company, no sooner is the question started,
in what sense he is a Redeemer, than we arrive at a
point where they take different paths, and are led, as
they advance, wider and wider asunder. That question
introduces us, in fact, into a great controversy. I do
not intend to enter into it ; but I will affirm, that
whether the weapons were sword, pen, or tongue, no
conflict that affected tlie sacred cause of liberty, the
rights of man, the honor or interests of nations, ever
involved such important, vital, transcendent interests,
as are staked in the battle that has been waged around
Christ's cross, and about the question, how he saves, in
what sense he is a Redeemer.

The first and most notable champion wlio appeared
on the field was the apostle Paul ; and as, panoplied
from head to heel in the armor of God, he stalks into
the arena, and, looking undaunted around him, is ready
to fight and to die for the truth, observe the motto on his
battle-shield, " I determined not to know anything
among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified." It
is not simply Jesus Christ ; though given by an angel
and full of meaning, that was a great name. Nor is it
Christ come, nor Christ coming, nor even Christ
crowned ; but Christ dying on a cross, '* Christ, and
him crucified," Life to sinners through a Saviour's
death, salvation by snbstitution, redemption through
blood — that blood the ransom and Jesus the Redeemer
— was the substance of all Paul's sermons, the theme
of his praise, the deepest-rooted and most cherished
hope of his heart. He lived and djed in that faith ; and,
though that tongue of power and eloquence be now
gilent in the grave, he proclaims to listening angels in

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 135

heaven what he preached to men on earth. He pro-
claims it, not in sermons, but in songs ; for in that
serene and better world, where no storms disturb the
church, nor controversies rage, nor clouds obscure the
light, they sing, salvation by the blood of Christ, May
we cast away all other hope ! — and, with our whole
hearts embracing that, we shall one day join the vast
congregation whose voices fell on John's ear as the
sound of many waters, while in harmonious numbers and
to golden harps they sung before the throne, " Thou
wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood.''
And for more fully understanding and appreciating
this doctrine, I remark—-

1. Christ does not redeem us, as some say, by simply
revealing the truth — save us by merely as a prophet
shewing the way of salvation.

The pathways on the deep along our rugged coasts,
as well as our streets, are lighted ; and yonder, wliere
the waters fret and foam and break above the sunken
rock, the tall light-house rises. Kindled at sundown,
it shines steady and clear through the gloom of night,
warning the seaman at the wheel of the danger he has
to avoid, and shewing him the course he has to steer.
Now he who reared that house and kindled its blessed
light, and thus saves many a bark from shipwreck,
many a sailor from a watery grave, may be called a
saviour. In one sense he is the saviour of all who,
bravely ploughing their way through the black mid-
night over the stormy deep, hail that light as it rises
on them like a star of hope — and, seeing it, know how
to steer, to take the roads, to clear the bar, to beware
the reef, and bring their bark in safety to the desired
haven, But if Christ is a Saviour only in that sepse,

136 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

simply because he brought life and immortality to light,
then he is not the only Saviour. From the " Sun of
Righteousness" he changes into a star, and in that
heaven, where he shone without a rival, he takes his
place but among tlie luminaries of the churcli ; one of
many, he is only a pure and bright and beautiful star
in that brilliant constellation, which is formed of Moses,
the prophets, those seers and sages and inspired apos-
tles, by whose voices and pens, in the days of old, God
communicated his will to man.

Many of those, indeed, who were inspired to reveal
the will of God for the salvation of men, had more to
do instrumentally in revealing that will tlian Jesus
Christ. No book bears his name ; he wrote no epistle,
and the truths that actually dropt from his lips, so far
as they are recorded, form but an insignificant portion
of those Holy Scriptures which are our chart and
charter. Yet who but he is set forth as tlie Redeenior
and Saviour of sinners ? Wliere is Moses represented
as such ? or David ? or Isaiah ? or Paul ? Wliere is
it said. Believe on Paul, and thou shalt be saved ?
whosoever believeth on Paul or Peter hath everlasting
life and shall never perish ? Nevertheless, compared
with our Lord Jesus Christ, see how much Paul did
in actually revealing the will of God to men. Jesus
preached three years, but Paul thirty. Jesus preached
only to Jews, but Paul to Jew, and Greek, and Roman,
Parthian, Scythian, barbarian, bond and free. Jesus
numbered his converts by hundreds, Paul his by thous-
ands. Jesus confined his labors to the narrow limits
of Palestine ; Paul overleaped all such bounds, he took
the wide earth for his field, and flying as on angeFs
wings, he preached the Gospel alike to the bearded
Jew, the barbarians of Melita, the philosophers of

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 137

Athens, and in the streets and palaces of Rome, to the
conquerors of the world. Yet look at this great
apostle ; he lies as low at Jesus' feet as the woman who
washed them witli her tears, and wiped them with the
hairs of her head. He wore chains for Christ, and
gloried in them ; nor was ever queen so proud of her
diamond coronet, nor man in office of his chain of gold,
as he of the iron manacles he wore for Christ, and
boldly shook in the face of kings. To serve the cause
of Jesus he could submit to be beaten, and scourged,
and starved, and stoned, and cast at Ephesus to
hungry lions ; but one thing he could not bear — grief
and horror seize him when he finds himself set on a
level with his master. To a divided church, rent by
factions and full of partisanship, where one is crying,
I am of Paul, and another, I am of Apollos, and a third,
I am of Cephas, and a fourth, I am of Christ, he turns
round with indignation to ask, " Is Christ divided ?
was Paul crucified for you ? or were ye baptized in the
name of Paul ?" In whatever others may glory, he
ascribes all the glory of redemption to the cross of
Christ, and, rebuking that party spirit and respect for
human authority which is still too prevalent among us,
he exclaims, " God forbid that I should glory, save in
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."

2. Our Lord does not redeem us, as some say, simply
by his example.

That man is, in a sense, my saviour, who leads me
safely along any dangerous path. The brave guide,
for instance, who, high up on the beetling precipice,
appears to shuddering spectators below like an insect
creeping along its face, who now plants the point of
his foot in tlie crevice, now poises himself on that

138 CHRIST THE RfeDEEMER.

rocking stone, now, laying strong hand on a friendly
root, with a thousand feet beneatli, swings himself
round this dangerous corner, now, with arms stretched
out, and with more than a lover's eagerness, embraces
the rock, and now steps lightly along tlie fallen tree
that bridges the fearful chasm, and so, going before,
shows me where to turn, and what to hold by, I re-
gard— and on looking back at that tremendous path,
and horrible abyss — regard with gratitude as my
saviour. But for him, I had never achieved the pas-
sage ; my body had been mangled, and my unburied
bones left to bleach in the depths of that dark ravine.
And in a corresponding way, according to some, our
Lord redeemed us. He set us such an example of
every virtue, of patient endurance, of living, suffering,
dying, that we also, by closely following his footsteps,
may reach the kingdom of heaven. Alas for our
safety ! farewell to the hope of heaven, a last farewell,
if it turn on that. What a delusion ! God knows, if
it had not been for the everlasting arms that caught
us when falling, and often raised us when fallen, and
for the overflowing love that has pardoned a thousand
and a thousand sins, I, and you, and all, had perished
long ere now. We had never stopped falling, till, like
a stone that, rolling down the hill-side and bounding
from crag to crag, at length, with a sullen sound,
plunges into the lake, we had been lost in hell. Fol-
low his example ! Tread his footsteps ! Live as he
lived! Walk as he walked! Who is suflScient for
these things? No woman ever bore such a son as
Mary's ; for in him a clean thing came out of an un-
clean. Death has darkened many a house and church
and land, but never extinguished such a light as was
quenched in blood on Calvary ; it was as if he had

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 139

raised his arm and plucked, not a star, but the sun
from heaven. This earth was never trodden by such
feet as walked the Sea of Galilee, and were nailed
upon the cross. For more ^ .lan thirty years they trod
earth's foulest paths, and, when heaven received him
back, had neither spot nor stain. And as he lay dead
three days in a grave, which, respecting its prisoner,
did not dare to mar his face, or touch him with its cor-
rupting finger, so in a world that has been the grave
of virtue and holiness and piety, he passed three-and-
thirty years amid corruption uncorrupted, a friend to
harlots, a guest of publicans, associated with sinners,
yet sinless, holy, harmless, undefiled — like oil among
water, separate from sinners.

Again, I ask, who is sufficient for these things?
What man liveth and sinneth not ? Who has not often
to cry — " Hold up my goings in thy paths, that my
footsteps slip not ; and, when once down, what stops
him from going straight down to hell, but the promise,
which faith catches and holds and hangs by, " I will
heal their backslidings, and love them freely ? " We
should certainly attempt always to follow Jesus, to
walk as he walked, to speak as he spake, to think as
he thought, and to mould our whole conduct and conver-
sation on the pattern that he hath left us ; yet our best
attempts will leave us more and more convinced that
our only hope for redemption, salvation, forgiveness, lies
in the mercy of the Father and the merits of the Son.
Pray for and make sure of an interest in these, for
even after we have been made new creatures in Jesus
Christ, the most that we can do — nor that without the
aids of the Holy Spirit — is to creep along the path
which the Saviour walked, and leave the mark of our
knees where he left tlie prints of his feet.

140 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

3. Christ has redeemed us by suffering in our room
and stead. Our ransom was his life, the price of our
redemption his blood.

" Without shedding of lood is no remission ;" " the
blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." This
is the grand truth, the central doctrine, the culminat-
ing point of the Gospel. It rises lofty above all
others. And, as some Alpine summit, crowned with
snows and piercing the blue skies, rises up bright and
clear, to catch the rays of the morning sun, and be de-
scried from a far long distance, so the doctrine which
cheers us, caught the eyes and revived the hearts of
Adam and Eve amid the withered bowers of Eden.
The promised seed was to bruise the serpent's liead,
and that serpent was to bite His heel. There was to
be salvation, but salvation through suffering ; and, as
could only be, salvation through the suffering of a sub-
stitute. It was as a substitute for sinners that Jesus
was daily set forth in the sacrifices of the Jewish
altar ; and to one of these, as very graphically exhilj-
iting the connection between bloodshed and sin for-
given, let me request your attention.

The offering I refer to was made on the greatest of
all ceremonial occasions — the day of atonement. Two
young goats, kids of the goats, are selected from the
flock, and presented before the Lord at the door of the
tabernacle. These young, innocent, spotless creatures,
standing there in the sight of the silent solemn multi-
tude, are a double type of Jesus, when, in the councils
of eternity, he presented himself before Jehovah, say-
ing, " Lo, I come (in the volume of the book it is writ-
ten of me) to do thy will, 0 God." The lot is cast-
one for the Lord, the other for the scapegoat — to de-
termine which shall represent our Saviour in the act

CHRIST THE REDEEMER. 141

of his death, and which in the fruit of his death,
namely, the bearing away of the sins of the people.
The first falls as a sin offering. The High Priest,
having caught his flowing blood in a golden bowl,
enters within the veil, and, alone, sprinkles it upon
and before the mercy-seat. Coming forth, he goes up
to the living goat ; standing over it, he lays his hands
upon its head ; and, amid solemn silence, confesses
over the dumb creature all the iniquities, and trans-
gressions, and sins of the children of Israel. The
prayer finished, that goat bears on its devoted head
the guilt of the people as it has been ceremonially
transferred from them to it by these blood-stained
hands, and that holy prayer. And now, observe the
act which foreshadowed how Jesus, by taking our sins
upon him, bore them all away. The congregation
opens, the vast crowd divides, forming a lane that
stretches away right from ttie tabernacle into the
boundless desert. While every lip is sealed, and every
eye intent upon the ceremony, a man steps forth — a
"/^'' man ; and, taking hold of the victim, he leads it
on and away through the parted crowd. All eyes fol-
low them. Amid the haze of the burning sands and
distant horizon, their forms grow less and less, and at
length vanish from the siglit. He and that goat are
now alone. They travel on and further on, till, re-
moved beyond the reach of any human eye, far off in
the distant wilderness, nor man nor house in sight, he
casts loose the sin-laden creature. And when, after the
lapse of hours, the people descry a speck in the ex-
treme distance, which draws nearer and nearer, until,
in a solitary man who approaclies the camp, they re-
cognise the fit man who had led away tlie sin-laden
victim, the people see, and we in figure aleo see, liow

142 CHRIST THE REDEEMER.

our Lord, when he was made an offering for sin. took
the load of our guilt upon him — bearing it away, as it
were, to a land that was not known. " As far as tlie
east is from the west, so far hath he removed our
transgressions from us."

Let faith seize the reality of which that ceremony
was the shadow. Behold Christ suffering for his peo-
ple, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to
God ! He bore our sins away on his head in that
thorny crown, and on his shoulder in that heavy cross ;
and, most of all, amid that awful darkness, when he
was indeed alone, and, cast off by God as well as man,
his heart broke in that awful cry, " My God, my God,
why hast thou forsaken me ! " Relieved thus from his
load of guilt, knowing that all his sins were then
atoned for, and, in the witness of God's Spirit with his
own, possessing evidence that they are now forgiven,
how happy should the believer be I Envying no man's
state, and coveting no man's goods, with God's peace
in our heart and heaven in our eye, oh, may it be ours
to say from sweet experience, " Blessed is he whose
transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered."

Who is the image of the invisible God.— Colossi ans i. 15.

" I AM an old man, and have never seen God/^ said a
gray-haired Indian to Sir John Franklin, when that
distinguished traveler was pursuing one of his earlier
expeditions into those arctic regions where he first won
his fame, and afterwards found his grave. From that
fact the old man argued that there is no God ; since,
if there were any such being, he must have seen liim
sometime, and met him somewhere, in the course of liis
long life and wide Avanderings. Stupid savage ! He
would not believe in God because he had never seen
him. Yet he believed in the wind, which he had never
seen, as it howled along the dreary waste, or whirled the
snow-flakes, or roared through the pine-forest, or swept
his light canoe over foaming billows, or roused the sea
to burst its wintry chains, and float away from silent
shores their fields and glittering bergs of ice.

We believe in many things we never saw, on the
evidence of other senses than that of sight. AVe be-
lieve in music ; in invisible voices, that roll tlieir waves
of sound upon the ear, and by means of which our
spirits, shut up within gross, material forms, telegraph
their thoughts and hold intercourse, one with another.
We believe in invisible odors — the fragrance of rose
or lily, and the sweet-scented breatli of a thousand

0-J

144 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

other flowers. Nay, we believe in the existence of
what we neither hear, nor see, nor taste, nor smell, nor
touch. Though ignorant of what they are, and where
they are, we believe in the life tliat animates our mortal
bodies, and in the immortal spirits that inhabit them.
Thus, with such knowledge and education as we have,
there is no danger of our falling into the mistake of
Franklin's savage, or doing anything so foolish and
absurd as to doubt the being of God because his person
is invisible. Still, though that circumstance may not
lead us to deny his existence, alas ! how often does it
tempt us, the best of us, to forget it ! And as to the
ungodly, God is not in all their thoughts. " They
break in pieces thy people, 0 Lord, and afflict thine
heritage. They slay the widow and the- stranger, and
murder the fatherless. Yet they say, the Lord shall
not see, neither shall the God of Jacob regard it.
Understand, ye brutish among the people ; and ye
fools, when will ye be wise ? He tliat planted tlie ear
shall he not hear ? He that formed the eye shall he
not see ? Let me, therefore, embrace the opportunity
which the text presents, of dwelling for a little on that
feature of the Divine Being, of which the apostle
speaks, in setting Christ before us as the visible image
of an invisible God.

I. I would Avarn you against allowing God to be out
of mind because he is out of sight.

This is a fault to which we arc all prone, a danger
to which our very constitution exposes us. Hence the
necessity of striving, making an earnest effort to
*• walk by faith, not by sight." How difficult an ac-
quirement I for we are to a great degree the creatures
of sense. The sight of some companion of our boyhood,

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 145

from whom many years and wide seas have parted us,
how that recalls old days, and rekindles affections that
had been slumbering in their ashes ! We light on a
letter written by a kind hand long mouldering in the
dust, how that opens up wounds which time seemed to
have healed, and renews forgotten griefs ! I have
known a man far advanced in life, and standing, ripe
for heaven, on the edge of another world, so moved by
the picture of an early love, that, as he gazed on it,
fountains long sealed burst open ; and over the youtliful
and beautiful image of her whom the grave had long
held for years in its cold embraces, he bowed his gray
head, and wept and sobbed like a woman. And what
effect mere sight has on other passions may be seen in
the rout of yon battle-field, where the column tliat has
stood the volleying shot, and faced the flashes of death
so long as he came invisible in a shower of bullets,
wavers, staggers, reels, breaks, scatters like a flock of
sheep. The charge is made. They cannot stand seen
death — this line that, with knit brows, and rapid rush,
and terrible cheers, hurls itself on their ranks, their
gleaming bayonets a horrid hedge of steel.

And is it not just because we are chiefly affected
by the visible, that the grave comes to be the land
of forgetfulness ? The dead, being out of sight, are
jostled out of mind ; thrust off like withered leaves
from beech or oaken hedge by the green growth of
spring ; buried in our hearts as in their tombs. It
may be that they are now and then recalled, yet widows
forget their husbands, and wear their weeds sometimes
longer than their griefs ; parents forget their children,
the living pushing out the dead ; and churches forget
their ministers ; and nations forget the patriots whom
thev have entombed in marble and honored with sta-
7

146 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

tues. Memory grows treacherous. " Our fathers,
where are they ? the prophets, do they live for ever ?"
When some great man dies in cliurch or state, he falls
like a mass loosened from the mountain crag, which,
bounding into the quiet lake, produces a great commo-
tion, echoing among the silent hills, and surging its
waves up along the troubled shore ; but how soon all
is quiet again ! He goes down, like a stately ship,
with colors flying and sails all set ; and for a time
society is widely affected. The event produces a great
impression ; the public mind is agitated to its lowest
depths ; and, as he sinks into the grave, he draws men's
thoughts after him as that ship sucks in all tliat floats
nigh the whirlpool which she forms in her descent.
But it is with him as with her. Once buried beneath
its waters, how soon the sea is still again, and returns
to its former calmness ! The grave closes over the
mighty dead ; and new events and new persons, though
they may be much inferior, engross the public atten-
tion, just as the intci-e^ of men comes to be fixed more
on the little boat that floats its living crew on the
placid waters, than on the gallant ship that, with all
her guns and brave men, lies buried in the depths
below.

And so it is in religious things, in those matters
which affect our eternal well-being. What is out of
sight is very apt to be out of mind. Let this teach
you to take all the more heed to live by faith in the
invisible. Consider how, with all their glare and show,
things seen are paltry, passing, the least of things ; and
that grandeur and endurance belong to the unseen^
The soul is unseen ; precious jewel of immortality, it
lies concealed within its fragile fleshly casket. Hell
and heaven are unseen ; the first sinks beneatli our

THE IMAGE OF GOD, 147

sight, the second rises high above it. The eternal
world is unseen ; a veil impenetrable hangs before its
mysteries, hiding them from the keenest eye. Death
is unseen ; he strikes his blow in the dark. The devil
is unseen — stealing on us often unsuspected, and always
invisible. And as is our deadliest foe, so is our best
and trustiest, our heavenly Friend. Jesus is an invisi-
ble Saviour ; Jehovah is an invisible God.

" No man hath seen God at any time ;" yet why
should that be .turned into a temptation to sin ? I
think it should rather minister to constant watcliful-
ness and holy care. How solemn the thought, that an
invisible being is ever at our side, and, watching us,
recording with rapid pen each deed and word, every
desire that rises, though it be to burst like an air-bell,
every thought that passes, though on an eagle's wing.
We cannot shake off the presence of God ; and Avhen
doors are shut, and curtains drawn, and all is still, and
darkest night fills our chamber, and we are left alone
to the companionship of our thoughts, it miglit keep
them pure and holy to say, as if we saw two sliining
eyes looking on us out of the darkness, " Thou, God,
seest me." The world called him mad who imagined
that he saw God's eye looking on him out of every
star of the sky, and every flower of the cartli, and every
leaf of the forest, from the ground he trod upon, from
the walls of his lonely chamber, and out of the gloomy
depths of night. Mad ! It was a blessed and holy
fancy. May God help you to feel yourselves at all
times more in his presence than you are at any time in
that of your fellow-men ! How promptly then would
every bad thought be banished ; what unholy deeds
be crushed in the desire, nipped in the bud, strangled
in the birth ; what crimes remain uncommitted ; liow

148 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

feeble would the strongest temptations prove ; what a
purity, nobility, loftiness, holiness, heavenliness, Avould
be imparted to your whole bearing and conversation !
There would be a dignity in the humblest Christian's
mien and looks, such as rank never wore, and courtly
training never bred ; and we should guard our hearts
with such a door as stands at the threshold of heaven,
this written above it in the blood of Calvary, Here
" there shall in no wise enter anything that defileth."

II. The visible revelations of the Invisible, which
are recorded in Old Testament history, were most
probably manifestations of the Son of God.

Out of a number of cases where God is said to have
been seen, let me select a few.

To-morrow Esau and Jacob are to meet. There
was a quarrel of long standing between thcni, which
had all the bitterness of a domestic feud. Jacob liad
foully deceived and deeply injured his brotlier. He
had not seen Esau for many years, and, dreading his
vengeance, he now heard of his approach at the head
of four hundred men, with fear and trembling. Greatly
alarmed, he cried, God of my father Abraham, God of
my father Isaac, deliver me, I pray thee, from the hand
of my brother ; for I fear him, lest he will come and
smite me, the mother with the cliildren. Pattern to
us when temptation threatens, or dark misfortunes
lower, Jacob, having done all tliat man's wisdom could
devise, or his power could do in tlie circumstances, flios
for help to God. He will prepare for to-morrow's
trial by a night of prayer. Sending off his wives and
children across Jabbok's stream, to place them as far
as possible out of danger, and leave these innocent
ones to forget it in sleep's sweet oblivion, he seeks

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 149

himself a solitary spot. With deepest silence all
around him, and the bright stars above his head, he is
on his knees alone with God. Suddenly, as if he had
approached witli the stealth of a creeping savage, or
had sprung from out the ground, some one grasps liim.
Folded in his arms, Jacob cannot cast him off. Now
it becomes a struggle for the mastery. Locked to-
gether, they wrestle in the dark ; they bend ; they try
each to throw the other ; and, in some mysterious com-
mingling of bodily and spiritual wrestling, the night
passes, and the conflict lasts till break of day. Let
me go, said the other, whose eye had caught the gleam
of morning, for the day breaketh. Jacob but held
him faster. He had found out the other wrestler ;
danger gave him boldness ; faith gave him confidence ;
and, clinging to God with the grasp of a drowning man,
he replied, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.
And when he had prevailed, and got the blessing,
" Jacob called the name of the place Peniel ; for I
have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved."

Again, Joshua and the host are lying before Jericlio,
about to commence the siege. To enjoy an hour of
quiet devotion, undisturbed by the din and distraction
of the camp, or, perhaps, like a wary general, under
cover of the night, to reconnoitre the position of the
enemy, and find where ho might attack their defences
with most success, Joshua goes forth alone. And as,
advancing with bold yet cautious steps, he turns some
corner of the road, some angle of the wall, he starts,
finding himself face to face with an armed man. His
bravery is not ruffled. He thinks not of retreat ; but
drawing, advancing, and, perhaps, pointing his sword
to the breast of the unknown, he challenges with the
question. Art thou for us or for our adversaries ? He

150 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

was promptly answered. Nor could the sword of the
other, gleaming in the moonbeam and descending to
cleave his helmet and fell him to the ground, have
brought Joshua more suddenly to his knees than that
answer. Nay ; was the reply, but as captain of the
host of the Lord am I now come. Captain of the host
of the Lord I No man ; no, nor angel, this ! God
himself commands in the battle. The order, first is-
sued from amidst the flames of the burning bush, and
now repeated. Put thy shoes from ofi* thy feet, for the
place whereon thou standest is holy ground, reveals
God's own presence. Joshua worships ; and rises —
with what heart, and hopes, and holy confidence !
And yet not higher than believers may venture to
cherish in their daily fight with the devil, the world,
and the flesh. The Captain of your salvation mingles
in that conflict ; he is on your side ; and, as Joshua
might have said on his return to the host, you can say,
Our God shall fight for us.

Again, as God assumed a visible form to foretell the
fall of Jericho, he did the same to foretell the rise of
Samson — suiting his appearance, as he still does his
grace, to the varied circumstances of his people. He,
who met Joshua as a mailed warrior, presents himself
to Manoah's wife under a peaceful aspect ; yet min-
gling strangely — as they were united in our Lord —
the characters of the human and divine, his form be-
longed to earth, but his face shone with a heavenly
glory. A man of God came unto me, she said to her
husband, and his countenance was like the countenance
of an angel of God, very terrible. His tidings were
strange enough to rouse a woman's curiosity, yet awe
struck her dumb, nor left her a word to say or a ques-
tion to ask ; " I asked him not whence he was, neither

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 151

told he me his name." Some days thereafter she sits
alone in the field ; and, as she is ruminating, perhaps,
on an event that had deeply impressed her mind, sud-
denly the same form appears. She hastens homeward ;
tells her husband ; returns with him ; and Manoah,
less timid than the woman, solves the mystery by
bluntly asking, What is thy name? Why askest thou
thus after my name, was the significant reply, seeing it
is secret ? That answer revealed at once, to his great
surprise and awe, that he stood in the august presence
of God ; nor could any doubt of that remain, when
this Being of incommunicable name, calling fire from
the rock to consume their sacrifice, leaped upon the
altar, and ascended to heaven in its flames. The first
to recover speech, so soon as his tongue was unbound,.
Manoah turns to his wife, and, pale with terror, ex-
claims— " We shall surely die, because we have seen
God."

From many cases of the same character, let me select
another, where, as I have seen, a dull leaden cloud
suddenly changed by a flood of sunbeams into living
gold, the divine glory shines with such briglit efi'ul-
gence, that the scene wears an aspect of heaven more
than of earth. Within the holy temple Isaiah beholds
one sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up. His
train fills the house. Not white-robed priests, but
shining seraphim are his attendants. Incense that
never dropped from earthly trees, but such as you
might fancy that angel hands gathered from the trees
that dip their branches in the river of life, diffuses
celestial odors ; voices, such as they hear in heaven,
and shepherds heard in the skies of Bethlehem, fill the
courts with praise, singing, in anticipation of gospel
days. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts : the

162 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

whole earth is full of his glory. Nature herself ac-
knowledges the presence of God — the earth trembles,
the door-posts shake, the fire of the altar burns dim
through a cloud of smoke, and Isaiah, overpowered by
the awful glory of the scene, falls prostrate to the
ground, crying — Woe is me ! for I am undone : be-
cause I am a man of unclean lips : and I dwell in the
midst of a people of unclean lips : for mine eyes have
seen the king, the Lord of hosts. By such visible mani-
festations of himself, a gracious God, from time to
time, thus comforted and encouraged his people in the
days of old.

But on turning to another page of the Bible, what
do we find ? We find it averred that " no man hath
seen God at any time." How are we to reconcile that
positive statement with these plain facts? There is
but one way of doing so — namely, by regarding those
appearances as manifestations of him " who is the im-
age of the invisible God." That it was Christ who
appeared to Abraham, Christ who wrestled with Jacob,
Christ who led Israel out of Egypt, and, by the hands
of Moses and Aaron, conducted the people to the prom-
ised land ; that it was he, who, before he came in the
flesh, appeared in these early ages of the church as her
guardian and her God, is a conclusion which Scripture
warrants. Paul distinctly charges the host in the des-
ert with having tempted Christ. Neither, says he, let
us tempt Christ, as some of them also tempted, and
were destroyed of serpents.

This idea is in perfect harmony with other passages
in the history of redemption. We know for certain
that the fruit of our Lord's incarnation was anticipated.
The benefits of his death were enjoyed before he died ;
the legacies of the will were paid before the demise of

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 158

the testator ; for the saints, who lived in the days that
preceded his advent, were received to glory, if I may so
speak, upon his bond, his promise to pay. And if the
fruit of his incarnation was thus anticipated, why not
the fact of it ? Viewed in this light, how do these Old
Testament stories acquire a deeper and more enduring
interest to us ? In the guide of Abraham's pilgrimage
1 see the guide of my own. Jacob's success in wrestl-
ing imparts vigor to my prayers. To think that the
same arm whicli rolled back the gates of the sea, and
stopped the wheels of the sun, for us hung in feeble
infancy around a mother's neck ; that the same voice
which spake in Sinai's rolling thunders, for us wailed
feebly on Mary's bosom, and cried on the cross, I
thirst ; that the same august being who delivered the
law amid the majesty of heaven, for us died to fulfil it
amid the deepest ignominies of earth ; that he before
whom Moses did exceedingly fear and quake, and
Joshua fell, and the holy prophet fainted, was that very
same Jesus whose gentle manners won the confidence
of childhood, and whose kind eye beamed forgiveness
on a poor, frail, fallen woman, as slie stooped to wash
his feet with tears, and wipe tliem with the hairs of her
head, these things should exalt Jesus higher in our
esteem, and endear him more and more to our hearts.
What a combination of grandest majesty, and most
gentle mercy shines in this visible " Image of the in-
visible God !" Surely he is worthy of your acceptance,
and reverence, and love !

In turning your attention now to the person and
work of him who i^ " the image of the invisible God,"
let me introduce the subject by remarking,

164 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

in. That the greatness of the worker corresponds to
the greatness of the work.

It is not always so in the providence of Him who
saves by many or by few. Sometimes God accomplishes
the mightiest ends by the feeblest instruments. He
hath made the foolish things of the world to confound
the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound
the things which are mighty, and out of the mouth of
babes and sucklings ordained strength.

For example, many of the lovely islands of the
Pacific are formed entirely of coral, while others are
protected from the violence of the waves by a circular
rampart of the same material. Founded in the depths
of ocean, this coral wall rises to the surface, where it
indicates its presence by a long white line of break-
ers. The giant rollers that come in from the sea, and
threaten with their foaming crests to sweep that island
from its base, spend their strength and dash their waters
into snowy foam against this protection wall. And
thus, as within a charmed circle, while all without is a
tumbling ocean, the narrow strip of water that lies
between this bulwark and the shore is calm as peace,
reflecting, as a liquid mirror, the boats that sleep upon
its surface, and the stately palms that fringe the beach.
These stupendous breakwaters, tliat so greatly surpass
in stability and strength any which our art and science
have erected, are the work of what ? That God who
employed the hornet to drive the Amorite out of
Canaan, has constructed them by means as insignifi-
cant. They are the masonry of an insect — an insect
so small that the human eye can hardly detect it, and
BO feeble that an infant's finger could crush it. They
are built by the coral worm, and I have been told by

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 155

those who have seen these emerald isles, set within
their silver border, like gems on the ocean's bosom,
that the contrast is most surprising between the great-
ness of the work and the littleness of the worker.

Turning from the Book of Nature, let me now take
an illustration from the Book of Revelation. Look
upon this picture of desolation wrought on the land
of Israel : " A day of darkness and of gloominess, a
day of clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning
spread upon the mountains ; a great people and a
strong ; there hath not been ever the like, neither shall
be any more after it, even to the years of many genera-
tions. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them
a flame burneth. The land is as the garden of Eden
before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness ;
yea, and nothing shall escape them. The appearance
of them is as the appearance of horses, and as horse-
men, so shall they run. Like the noise of chariots on
the tops of mountains shall they leap, like the noise of
a flame of fire that devoureth the stubble, as a strong
people set in battle array. Before their face the people
shall be much pained ; all faces shall gather blackness.
The earth shall quake before them, the heavens shall
tremble, the sun and the moon shall be dark, and the
stars shall withdraw their shining : and the Lord shall
utter his voice before his army : for his camp Js very
great."

In answer to the cry of innocent bloqd, q-ud to crush
Ji horrible rebellion, we covered the sea witli sails, and,
summoning our soldiers from distant colonies, with
great preparations and after gigantic efforts, we pour-
ed them from crowded ships on the shores of a revolt-
ed land, But whence did God bring that mighty army
described by the prophet in such vivid colors ? Came

166 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

they from heaven ? Were its portals flung open, that
troops of embattled angels might rush forth to avenge
his cause? Or did he summon the Assyrian, the
Egyptian, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman, to pour
their armed hosts on a doomed, devoted, guilty land ?
No. The earth quaked, but not beneath the tread of
armies. The sun, moon, and stars were darkened,
but not by a cloud of angel wings. God summoned
only the locust from its native marshes, and bade the
brood of worms carry desolation into the land. It was
summer yesterday. The fields waved with corn, the
orchards were white with almond blossoms, the cluster-
ing vines, embraced the hills, and the forests were clad
in a broad mantle of living green. The locust comes,
and it is winter. The flowers are gone, and fields are
bare, and leafless trees, as if imploring pity, lift their
naked arms to heaven ; and, bearing on it the wail of
famine, the wind, that yesterday breathed perfumes,
and danced in joy over the corn, and played and sung
among the leaves, now sweeps in howling blast over
utter devastation. The locust has executed its com-
mission. It lias done God's work, and in tliat work
of divine judgment, we see again a remarkable contrast
between the greatness of the action and the littleness
of the agent.

In his providence and the government of his people,
how often has God produced great effects by most in-
adequate means ? He seems to do it for the very pur-
pose of sliowing that, whatever be tlie instrument, the
work, of goodness or of judgment, is his own. He is
a jealous God, and will not give his glory unto another.
In Moses, for example, we see one sprung of the en-
slaved race. Nor does he crouch before their tyrant
with awe in his look, and in liis hand a humble peti-

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 157

tion ; but stands erect in Pharaoh's hall, and, stamping-
his foot, demands that his brethren be free. In David
we see a beardless lad, attired in a shepherd's peaceful
garb, who carries some rustic provision to his brotliers
in the camp, and gazes around him with the keen curi-
osity of a peasant on all the- circumstance, and pomp,
and pride of war. Next day, where is he? What a
change ! Amid beating hearts, a breathless suspcDse.
eyes dim with anxiety, that gentle boy, his mother's
love, his old father's care, is doing brave battle with a
giant in the presence of two great armies, and plucking
the laurels from Goliah's brow.

Not, perhaps, in outward aspect, but in fact and
truth, how marked the contrast between these scenes
and that which salvation presents ! Redemption is a
great work, a most glorious work ; one, amid God's
other works and through all past ages, without a paral-
lel. Do not despise it, or reject it, no, nor neglect it ;
for how shall you escape if you neglect this great sal-
vation ? It is of all God's works the greatest ; it is his
" strange" work. That cross on Calvary, which mercy
raised for you, cost more love, and labor, and wisdom,
and skill, than all yon starry universe. With the earth
its emerald floor, its roof the sapphire firmament, the
sun and stars its pendent lamps, its incense a thousand
fragrant odors, its music of many sounds and instru-
ments the song of groves, the murmur of the streams,
the voices of winged winds, the pealing thunder, and
the everlasting roar of ocean. Nature's is a glorious
temple ! Yet that is a nobler temple, which, with
blood-redeemed saints for its living stones, and God
and the Lamb for its uncreated lights, stands aloft on
the Rock of Ages — the admiration of angels and the
glory of the universe. Earth wears on her bosom no

158 THE IMAGE OF GOD. "^m

blossoms SO white, and pure, and sweet of fragrance, as
the flowers of a garland on a Saviour's brow ! Is
Magdalene, is Manasseh, is Saul, are a thousand and a
thousand others in glory yonder, a wonder to angels,
and an astonishment to themselves ? But great as is
the work begun on earth and consummated in heaven,
how much greater is the worker ? Who is this that
Cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah ?
this that is glorious in his apparel, traveling in the
greatness of his strength ? He comes ; hell flies his
presence. He appears ; all the angels of God worship
him. He speaks ; the tempestuous sea is calm. He
commands ; the grave gives up its dead. He stands
on this sin-smitten world, " in praises, doing wonders ;"
the visible image of an invisible God. Angels cele-
brate his advent and attend his departure — hovering
alike over the manger of Bethlehem and the crest of
Olivet ; and when he has left the grave to ascend the
throne, hark to the cry at the gate of heaven, Lift up
your heads, 0 ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlast*
ing doors ; and the King of Glory shall come in.
Within, they ask. Who is this King of Glory ? The
gate rolls open, and, greeted with shout and song, the
procession enters, as his escort answer. The Lord of
Hosts, he is the King of Glory. With such lionors
and gladness may he be received into our hearts !
Holy Spirit, throw open their gates ! Jesus ascend
their throne I that, holding Thee whom heaven holds,
we may have a heaven within us ; and, washed in thy
blood and renewed by thy Spirit, may present in our-
selves— what sin has forfeited but grace restores — a
visible image of the invisible God.

(continued.)
Wto is the image of the invisible God.— Colossi ans i 15.

Describing a tribe of pagan Africans, Dr. Living-
stone says, Like most others, they listen with respect
and attention, but when we kneel down and worship
an unseen Being, the act and position appear to them
so ridiculous, that they cannot refrain from bursting
into uncontrollable laughter. Accustomed from our
earliest childhood to worship the unseen, we wonder at
these merry savages ; and yet, by nature like them, we
are all creatures of sight and sense. TTence our desire
to see any remarkable person ; hence the pleasure we
take in the portrait that embellishes the biography of
a great or good man, or in the statue which preserves
his features and adorns his tomb. Some may call the
publican's a childish curiosity. But we sympathise
with Zaccheus, when, having heard that Jesus was
passing, he left the receipt of custom to join the throng ;
but, lost there, shot ahead of the multitude, and climbed
a friendly sycamore, to catch a passing glance at the
wonder-working man. We esteem it not the least of
the blessings which shall be enjoyed in heaven, that we
shall see Jesus there ; see him as he is ; gaze with fond,
adoring love on the very face and form which our faith
has so often tried to fancy, and painters of the greatest
genius have utterly failed to exp"o«s.

(159)

160 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

A sense of guilt makes man afraid of God. Con-
science makes cowards of us all ; so that, as Adam
fled from his presence to the bushes of the garden,
many fly even from the thought of him, in whom, but
for sin, they would have lovingly confided. But for
the fears of guilt, the contemplation of God's works
would kindle a devout curiosity to see the hand they
sprung from. And when, so rapt in admiration as for
the time to forget that we are sinners, we gaze on the
spangled firmament, or look out on the blue rolling
ocean, or, from the peak of some lofty mountain, look
over a tumbling sea of hills, or down on the glorious
landscape, as in the mingled beauty of dark green-
wood, and golden fields, and silver streams, and cas-
tle-crowned summits, and scattered villages, and busy
towns, it stretches away to the distant shore, the soul
has some longing for a view of God more palpa])le
than it gets. We almost wish that he were not invis-
ible, and enter, in some measure, into the feelings of
Moses on Mount Sinai. The everlasting thunderings
were grand, vividly the lightning flashed and flickered,
awfully sublime were the dark cloud and voices of the
mount, but they were not God. The heart craved for
some view of himself. And so, highest example of
perfect love casting out fear, with the lightnings play-
ing around him, and the earth shaking beneath his
feet, bold man I he bowed his head and bent his knee,
and said. Show me thy glory.

Being, as we have already shown, so much creatures
of sight and sense, this incident leads me to remark —

I. That God, as revealed visibly in Jesus Christ,
meets and satisfies one of our strongest wants.

Our Lord's d\s 'lity, which is to some like his death,

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 161

to the Jew " a stumbling-block/' like his resurrection
to the Greek, foolishness, does not stagger my faith in
the Bible. On the contrary, Christ's divine nature
strengthens my belief in its divine authority ; and, in
the light of that doctrine, the sacred volume appears
all the more plainly to be both the power of God and
the wisdom of God. That doctrine, as I hope to show
you, goes to establish, not shake its claims to be de-
voutly received as a revelation from heaven.

" Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image,
or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or
that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water
under the earth ; thou shalt not bow thyself down to
them, nor serve them." So runs the second command-
ment ; and, if I am to judge from the universal practice
of mankind, there is not one of the ten commandments
which runs more counter to our nature. That remark
may surprise you. But in proof of it —

1. Look at the heathen world.

For long dark ages the whole earth was given up
to idolatry, with the exception of a single nation. The
Hebrews stood alone. They worshipped in a temple
without an idol, and rejected the use of images in the
services of religion. Go back to remotest time. Start
from the age either of those old Assyrians, whose gods
we have been digging from the ruins of Nineveh, or of
those older Egyptians whose mummy forms, with their
dog and hawk-headed divinities, lie entombed on tlie
banks of the Nile ; and, coming down the course of
time to the last-discovered tribe of savages, we find
that all nations, witli scarcely an exception, have been
idolaters. All have clung to the visible, and employed
sensible representations of the divinity ; theirs a sen-

162 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

suous worship, whether they adored one or ten thou-
sand gods. Nor is this wonderful. To fix the mind
and affections on an invisible Being seemed like at-
tempting to anchor a vessel on a flowing tide or rolling
billows. These offer nothing to hold by. And, as a
climbing plant, for lack of a better stay, will throw its
arms around a ruined wall or rotten tree, rather than
want something palpable to which their thoughts might
cling, men have worshipped the Divine Being through
images of the basest character and most hideous forms.
We gaze with blank astonishment on the gods of many
heathen races. We ask, is it possible that rational
beings have bent the knee to this painted stick, that,
with a bunch of feathers stuck on its head, and two
bits of inlaid pearl-shell for eyes, presents but the
rudest resemblance to the form of humanity ? Not
only possible but certain. Talk of " the dignity of our
nature !" How that ugly idol, with man supplicating
its help and trembling before its wrath, refutes the
notion, and proclaims the fall ! Contrast Adam, erect
in his innocence, and lifting up an open countenance
to the heavens, with that dark, crouching, miserable
savage, who kneels to this stick. What a fall is there !
How is the gold become dim? how is the most fine
gold changed ? Then,

2. Look at the evidence of this proneness to sensu-
ous worship as it appears in the history of the Jews.
Even among God's chosen people, how did tliis pro^
pensity to idolatry constantly manifest itself, just as I
have seen broom, and furze, and heath, and such other
wild plants as were natural to the soil, spring up in
cultivated pastures — ready to resume possession, should
the husbandman relax his efforts to keep them down

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 163

and root them out ? There could be no greater folly
on the part of the Israelites than to venerate the gods
of Egypt. If the gods whose aid the Egyptians in-
voked had been else than " vanity," the Hebrews had
still been slaves ; and yet so prone were they to idol-
atry, that they set up a golden calf at the very foot of
Sinai. Again, the grass was hardly green on David's
grave, when his son, forfeiting his title of the wisest of
men, allowed himself to be seduced by heathen women
to lend his countenance to heathen idolatry ; the abom-
ination of Moab stood in front of the temple, and Ash-
taroth, enthroned on Olivet, looked down with haughty
contempt on the courts of Zion. Again, when the
kingdom was broken up through the insane folly of
Rehoboam, see how the ten tribes, like a bark parted
from her anchors, and borne by a strong tide on a
fatal reef, drifted on idolatry. A few years suffice to
engulf the whole nation into the deepest, grossest, pa-
ganism. Ere one half century has passed, Elijah
stands alone ; faithful among the faithless ; he only
by any public act protesting against the universal idol-
atry ; he cries, I, even I only, am left. Thus rapidly,
when abandoned by God to the power of their pas-
sions, do both men and nations sink. As the history
of many still proves, nothing is so easy as the descent
into hell. Then,

3. We find evidence of this propensity to idolatry
even in the Christian church. We have not to rake up
the ashes of Jewish history, nor disturb the graves of
ancient Nimrods and Pharaohs, nor import their rude
idols from Polynesian shores, to prove the deep longing
that there is in our nature for a God whom our senses
may embrace. How deeply has Christianity herself

164 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

suffered from this cause? Look to the church of
Rome ! Her temples are crowded with images. Fancy
some old Roman, rising from his grave on the banks
of the Tiber. Looking on the sensuous worship of
modern Rome, the honors paid to a doll decked out to
represent Christ's mother — multitudes prostrate at the
feet of stone apostles — the incense and prayers offered
to the lifeless effigy of a man, here hanging in weakness
on a cross, or there sitting in triumph on the globe
where he sways a sceptre, and treads a serpent beneath
his feet, what could he suppose but that the " eternal
city" had changed her idols — nor ceased from her
idolatry ; and, by some strange turn of fortune, had
given to one Jesus the old throne of Jupiter, and as-
signed the crown which Juno Tvore in his days to
another queen of heaven ? In that bestial form at the
foot of Sinai, with the shameless, naked, frantic crowd
singing and dancing and shouting around it, the scene
which filled Moses with great indignation, strikes us
with great astonishment. How, we ask, with God
thundering above their heads, could they fall into sucii
gross idolatry ? And yet have we not stood astonished
to see a rational creature bending head and knee to a
tinselled image, amid circumstances, too, which made
the act appear peculiarly surprising and degrading?
There, the worship of a creature insulted the glory of
God's grandest works ; nor did Popery ever seem to
us more hateful, more dishonoring, and more debasing,
than amid scenes whose magnificence raised tlie soul
to God, as on eagles' wings. There, a blind leader of
the blind, she was turning away the faitli, and love,
and worship of his creatures from him whose voice was
heard in the roar of the Alpine cataract, whose mighty
hand was seen in mountains tliat stood piled to heaven,

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 165

crowned with their eternal snows, and of whose great
white throne of judgment one fancied they saw a solemn
image in that pure, lofty, majestic, snowy dome, which
glistened in sunbeams, high over mountains and valleys
already wrapped in evening gloom.

Now, in what way are we to account for this univer-
sal tendency to idolatry. It is not enough to call it
folly. I ask, what led to such folly, and led all men
to it? — philosophers with fools, the wisest with the
weakest, of the heathen? It admits of but one expla-
nation—the feeling from wliich idolatry springs are
deeply rooted in our nature.

You tell me that God is invisible, infinite, incompre-
hensible. You teach me that neither in wood, nor
stone, nor colors, nor even in my mind's fancy, may I
impart to him form or figure ; neither features to ex-
press his emotions, nor hands to do his work ; neitlior
eyes, although they beam, nor a heart, altliougli it beat
with love ; and you warn me, moreover, that, even in
imagination, to clothe the Divine Being in a form t! v*
most venerable and august, is to be guilty of a speci(\s
of idolatry. But it seems as difficult for me to make
such a being the object of my affections, as to grasp a
sound, or to detain a shadow. This heart craves some-
thing more congenial to my nature, and seeks in God a
palpable object for its affections to cling to. That is
our want. And now see how that want is met by the
gospel, and is provided for by him who " knoweth our
frame, and remembereth that we are dust."

Nothing appears to me more remarkable in provi-
dence, or more clearly to attest the being and attributes
of an all-presiding God, tlian the perfect adaptation o:
creatures to the circumstances in wliich they are placed.
See how the summer, that brin":s back the swallows

166 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

to our door, in myriads of insects produces their food ;
how those creatures that burrow in the soil have bodies
shaped like a wedge, and fore-feet so formed as to do
the work of a spade ; how the animals that inhabit
arctic climes are wrapped in furs, which man, for the
sake of their warmth, is glad to borrow, and to which
God, for the protection of their lives, has given the
color of snow ; how, furnished with hollow bones and
downy feathers, birds are adapted to float in an atmos-
phere of thin transparent air ; and how other creatures,
slow of motion, and unarmed for battle, and thus help-
lessly exposed to their enemies, carry a strong castle
on their backs — retiring within tlieir shell, as men into
a fortalice, safe from all attack. The student of nature
thus recognizes, with adoring wonder, the harmony
which God has established between his creatures and
their circumstances. Now the divinity of our faith is
not less conspicuous to the believer's eye, in respect of
its perfect adaptation to the peculiarities, or, if you
will call them so, to the infirmities of our nature. In
his incarnate Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, God presents
himself to me in a form which meets my wants. The
Infinite is brought within the limits of my narrow
understanding ; the Invisible is revealed to my sight ;
I can touch him, hear him, see him, speak to him. In
the hand which he holds out to save me, I have what
my own can grasp. In that eye bent on me, whether
bedewed with tears, or beaming with affection, I see
divine love in a form I feel, and can understand. God
addresses me in human tones ; God stands before me
in the fashion of a man ; and, paradox as it appears,
when I fall at his feet to say with Tliomas, My Lord
and my God, I am an image-worshipper, yet no idolater ;
for the Being before whom I bend is not a mere man,

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 167

nor a graven image, nor a dead thing, but the living^
loving, eternal, "express image" of the "invisible
God."

II. Consider in what sense Jesus Christ is " the
image of the invisible God."

This term, image, is to be taken here in its widest,
most comprehensive sense. It means much more than
a mere resemblance ; it conveys the idea of shadow
less than that of substance ; and is to be understood
in the sense in which Paul employs it, when he says of
the Mosaic institutions — " The laAv having a shadow
of good things to come, and not the very image,^^ or
substance, "of the things." An image may be moulded
in clay, or cut in marble, or struck in metal, or so
formed on the watery mirror, that, wlicn blustering
winds were hushed, and no ripple disturbed the lake,
we have lain over our boat to see the starry firmament
imaged in its crystal depths, and wisli it were thus in
our bosom — a heaven above repeated in a heaven be-
low. Then there are living as well as dead images.
And as a Christian's life, without any occasion for his
lips telling it, should proclaim him to the world a cliild
of God, so I have known an infant bear such striking
resemblance to his father, that what liis tongue could
not tell, his face did ; and people, struck by the like-
ness, remarked of the nursling, He is the very image
of his father. Such was xidam in his state of inno-
cence. Endowing him with knowledge, righteousness,
and true holiness, God made good his words. Let us
make man in our own image.

Now it may be said that, as our Lord, like the first
Adam, was a pure and holy creature, ''harmless,'' and
" undefiled," he is therefore called the image of God.

168 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

Yet that does not exhaust the meaning of this term ;
nor is it at all on that account that Paul speaks of him
as '• the second Adam," but because, as their represen-
tative and federal head, Jesus stood to his people in
the same covenant relationship as our first parent did
to all his posterity.

Nor have they sounded the depths, seen to the bot-
tom of this expression, who say that, since our Lord
was endowed with power to do the works of God, to
work many mighty miracles, he might therefore be
called the image of God. For many others, both be-
fore and after him, were in that sense equally images
of God. How godlike was Moses, when he raised his
arm to heaven, and thunders rent the answering skies ;
when, giving origin perhaps to the heathen legend of
Neptune and his trident, he waved his rod upon the
deep, and, billow rolling back from billow, the sea was
parted by his power ! What a godlike action Joshua's
on that battlefield, when he met, and where he con-
quered five kings in fight ! God fought for him with
hailstones, and he fought for God with swords ; and
no more than devils of hell could stand before us,
did prayer always summon heaven to our aid, could
mortal men stand before such onslaught — " Kings of
armies did flee apace ;" that day five crowns were lost.
But, apparently a most inopportune event, ere Joshua
has reaped the fruits of his victory, the sun, emerging
from the dark hail-cloud, has sunk low in the sky.
His burning wheels touch the crest of Gibeon, while
the pale moon, marshaling on the night to protect the
flying enemy, is showing her face over the valley of
Ajalon. Joshua sees, that, as has liappened to other
conquerors, darkness will rob him of the prize ; nor
leave anything more substantial in his hand than a

THE IMAGE OF GOD. Id9

wreath of laurel, the honors of the day. luspired for
the occasion, he lifts his bloody sword to the heavens,
he commands their luminaries to stop ; and when, like
high-mettled coursers which, knowing their masters'
hand, instantly obey the rein, the sun and moon stand
still, hang motionless in the portentous sky, how
grandly does he stand there, a visible image of God ?
Yet, where is Joshua, or Moses, or Elijah, or Paul, or
Peter, or any of all the servants by whom Jehovah
wrought such wonders in the days of old, called an
" image of the invisible God ? " Where are these men
set forth as mysteries ? Where are they represented
as " God manifest in the flesh ? " Of which of them
did God himself say. Let all the angels of God wor-
ship him ? A blind superstition may worship them ;
but yonder, where Moses bends the knee by the side
of Mary Magdalene, and Joshua bows low as Rahab,
and Paul sings of the mercy that saved in himself the
chief of sinners, they worship Jesus, as in his double
nature both God and man ; a visible manifestation of
the invisible ; " the only begotten of the Father ; dis-
tinguished from all other images, whether impressed
on holy angels or on sainted men, as ' the express
image of his person." Herein lies the amazing breadth,
and length, and depth, and height, of the love of God ;
for you he gave that image to be broken — shattered
by the hand of death. Blessed be his name, He died,
the just for the unjust, that we might be saved.

III. Let me direct your attention to some illustra-
tions of this truth.

" Shew us the Father," said Philip to our Lord.
Had he said. Cleave me that mountain, divide this sea
stop the sun, lav thy finger on the hands of time, he
8"

170 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

had asked nothing impossible ; nothing more difficult
for Jesus than saying to a cripple, Walk, or to the
dead, Come forth. Yet impossible as was that for
which Philip asked, since " no man hath seen God at
an3' time, nor can see him," and strangely bold as was
his request, it was followed by a happy issue. What
clear testimony does our Lord's reply bear both to his
own divinity and to his father's loving, pitiful, tender
nature ! " He that hath seen me, Philip," seen me
weeping with the living and weeping for the dead,
seen me receiving little children into my arms to bless
them, seen me inviting the weary to rest, pitying all
human suffering, patient under the greatest wrongs,
encouraging the penitent, and ready to forgive the
vilest sinners. " he that hath seen me, hath seen the
Father." In me, my character and works, you have a
living, visible, perfect " image of the invisible God."

In selecting some of the divine attributes to illus-
trate this, I remark —

1. In our Lord Jesus Christ we see the power of
God.

An Arab, a wild son of the desert, one more ac-
customed to fight than to reason, to plunder a caravan
than to argue a cause, was asked by a traveler how he
knew that there was a God. He fixed his dark eyes
with a stare of savage wonder on the man who seemed
to doubt the being of God ; and then, as he was wont,
when he encountered a foe, to answer spear with spear,
he met that question with another. How do I know
whether it was a man or a camel that passed my tent
last night ? Well spoken, child of the desert ! for not
more plainly do the footprints on the sand reveal to
thy eye whether it was a man or camel that passed thy

THE IMAGE OF GOD. I7l

tent in the darkness of the night, than God's works
reveal his being and power. They testify of him.
His power has left its footprint impressed upon them
all.

Now, whose footprint is that on the ground there
before the tomb of Lazarus ? Was it God or man that
passed that way, leaving strange evidence of his pre-
sence in an empty grave ? There, the revolution of
time has brought round again the days of Eden ; for,
unless it be easier to give life to the dust of the grave
than to the dust of the ground, the spectators of that
stupendous miracle, who stand transfixed with aston-
ishment, gazing on the dead alive, have seen the arm
of God made bare ; and, from the very lips that cried,
Lazarus, come forth, have they heard the voice which
said of old. Let us make man in our image. Nay, a
day of older date than Eden's has returned. To make
something out of nothing is a work more visibly
stamped witli divinity than to make one thing out of
another — a living man out of lifeless dust ; and ere
our Lord left the world, he was to leave behind him,
in an act, not of forming but of creating power, the
most visible footprint and impress of the great Creator.
The scene of it may be less picturesque, less striking
to common eyes, than when Jesus rose in the boat to
rebuke the storm ; than when leaving Galilee's shore
to cross the lake, the waters sustained him, and he
walked like a shadowy spirit, upon the heaving bil-
lows ; than when he stayed a funeral procession at the
gate of Nain, and, going up to the bier, laid his hand
on the corpse of the widow's son, and, changing death
to life, left him folding her in his fond embraces ; ,yet
our Lord never appeared more the express image of
his Father, than on yonder green grassy mountain

172 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

side. The calmness of all the scene, the meanness of
the company, if you will have it so, the poverty of the
fare, amid these accessories, that are but dull foils to
the sparkling gem, Jesus stands forth in the glory of a
Creator. At his will, the bread multiplies ; it grows
in the hands of disciples ; five thousand men are filled
to repletion with what had not otherwise satisfied five ;
and, thing unheard of before, the fragments of narrow
circumstances and a scanty table far exceeded the
original provision. The materials of the feast filled
one basket, but the fragments fill twelve. Who does
not see the day of creation restored in that banquet ?
In the author of this, the greatest of all his miracles,
who does not see " the express image" of him who
made things that are out of things that were not, said
of matter's first-born and purest element. Let there be
light : and there was light ?

2. In Christ we see the image of a holy God. Many
years ago a horrible crime was committed in a neigh-
boring country. It was determined that the guilty
man, whoever he might be, so soon as he was discov-
ered and convicted, should die. He had fled ; but the
eye of justice tracked him to his hiding-place. Drag-
ged from it, he is arraigned at the bar ; and fancy, if
you can, the feelings of his judge, when, in the pale,
trembling, miserable, guilty wretcli, he recognized his
own son — his only son ! What an agonizing struggle
now began in that father's bosom ! He is torn between
the conflicting claims of nature and duty. The public
indignation against the criminal is lost in pity for the
father, as he sits there transfixed with horror, over-
whelmed wit%grief, while his child, with clasped hands
and eyes that swim in tears, implores a father's pity.

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 178

Duty bears nature down. He pronounces sentence of
death ; but in passing it on his son, he passes it on
himself. Nature would have her own. He rises ; he
leaves the bench ; he hastens home ; he lies down on
his bed ; nor ever rising from it, dies of a broken
heart.

God cannot die ; yet, when, rather than his holy
law should be broken with impunity, he gave up his
love to bleed, his beloved son to die, a substitute for
us, oh, how did the blood which dyed that cross dye
his law in colors of the brightest holiness ! What ser-
mon like that on the text, " It is an evil thing and bit-
ter, that thou hast forsaken the Lord thy God." Nor,
as in that dying Saviour hung high under a frowning
heaven, as beneath that bloody tree, where Mary re-
ceives into her arms the dead body of her son, and
weeping women in bitter anguish kiss his Avounded
feet, is there in hell or heaven a scene so impressively,
awfully illustrative of the angeFs anthem, Holy, holy,
holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is
to come.

3. In Christ we see the image of a God willing and
and able to save.

Let me take an illustration of this from an act of
salvation which he performed under circumstances of
the greatest difficulty and disadvantage. The scene is
laid at the cross. Jesus is dying ; agonising pains,
the shouts of the pitiless multitude, their insulting
mockery, and the deep darkness of the hour, combine
to disturb his mind. If he can save then and there,
save when his hand is nailed to the tree, what may he
not do, now that he is exalted to the right hand of
God, with all power given him in earth and heaven?

174 THE IMAGE OF GOD.

I would awaken hope in the bosom of despair, I would
like to cheer God's people, and I would try to encour-
age the greatest sinners to turn with faith to this re-
fuge of the lost ; let us therefore draw near, and see
how his divine ability to save, streaming like a sun-
beam through a riven cloud, revealed him, even when
hanging on the cross, as the adorable image of an in-
visible God. And may the Holy Spirit bless the sight
to you !

It is easy to save one who has fallen into the flood
some distance above the cataract, where the river, not
yet hurrying to the fall, flows placidly on its way.
But further down the difficulty becomes great, every
foot further down the greater ; for the current moves
with faster speed and growing force, till at length it
shoots forward with arrowy flight, and, reaching the
brink, leaps headlong into a boiling gulf. Now, away
among the mountains, I know such a place, where once
three shepherds, brothers, were to leap, as they had
often done, from rock to rock, across the narrow chasm
through which the swollen waters rushed onward to
their fall. Bold mountaineers, and looking with care-
less eye on a sight which had turned others dizzy, one
bounded over like a red deer ; another followed —
but, alas, his foot slipping on the smoothly treacherous
ledge, he staggered, reeled, and falling back, rolled
over with a sullen plunge into the jaws of the abyss.
Quick as lightning, his brother sprang forward — down
to a point where the waters issue into a more open
space, just above the crag over which they throw
themselves into the black, rock-girdled, boiling cavern.
There, standing on the verge of death, he eyes the
body coming ; he bends — his arm is out — thank God,
he has him in his powerful grasp. Bravely, brotherly

THE IMAGE OF GOD. 175

done I Alas ! it is done iii vain. The third brother,
sad spectator of the scene, saw him swept from his
slippery footing : and, in their death not divided, as
of old they had lain in their childhood, locked in each
other's arms they went over, horribly whelmed in the
depths of the swirling pool. Not so perished our
elder Brother, and the thief he stretched out his hand
to save. He plucked him from the brink of hell ; he
saved him on the dizzy edge of the dreadful pit. Poor
wretch, ah ! he hangs above the gulf ; he is half over ;
just then he turns a dying eye on a dying Saviour, and
utters but one cry for help. The arm of mercy seizes
him ; he is saved ; now heaven holds him crowned in
glory ! What a revelation of Jesus as the express
image of him who has power to save at the very utter-
most ! What an encouragement to you, though the
chief of sinners, to cast yourselves at Jesus' feet ! Do
it. Do it now. May heaven help you to do it now !
Another moment, and you may be beyond the reach
of mercy. Another moment may be a whole eternity
too late.

The first-born of every creature.— Colossi ans 115.

Thousands each night — the watchman on his beat,
the sentinel on the ramparts, the seaman on the heav-
ing deep, the jaded votaries of pleasure on their return
from ball and revel — walk beneath the spangled hea-
vens, nor once raise their eyes, or, if they do, raise
not their thoughts to the magnificence of the scene.
And each day, thousands engrossed with the pursuit
of pleasure or business, tread the spangled sward with
an eye of no more intelligence than an ox — careless of
the beautiful flowers, which with a happier, purer taste,
the little child loves to gather, and, singing to her
work, weaves into garlands for her sunny brow. Not
that these persons are constitutionally dead to beauty
or devoid of intelligence. Not that they look on the
face of nature with an idiot's vacant stare, but familiar-
ity, which breeds contempt in some instances, in this
has bred indifference. Behold, perhaps one reason why,
though our Lord presented such a glorious combina-
tion of divine and human excellencies, many were in-
sensible to it ; and why, sad to think of it, he found
so much occasion to apply to himself the old proverb,
A prophet is not without honor but in his own country^
and among his own kin, and in his own house I

A less pardonable reason, however, may be found for
a76)

THE FIRST-BORN. 177

this in his case, as in others, and found in that envy to
which our fallen nature is prone. A bad, a base, in
every way an unprofitable passion, one that, more than
any other, carries its own punishment with it, and
makes those who cherish it wretched, envy is its own
avenger ; and yet, so prone are many to regard others
with envy, that a man may feel assured that he has begun
to rise in the world so soon as he hears the buzz of de"
tractors, and feels their poisoned stings. This, indeed,
is not a bad test of merit, just as we know that to be
the finest and the ripest fruit which bears the marks of
having been attacked by wasp, or hornet, or other such
winged or wingless insects. The goose, and the sea-
gull, and other common creatures, are left to pursue
their way through the fields of air without interruption
or attack, but I have seen, when some noble bird ap-
peared, who had a wing to soar aloft, to cleave the
clouds, how he was harassed and hunted by a noisy
crowd, that assailed him with their voices, but, ming-
ling cunning with insolence, kept beyond the swoop of
his pinions, or the stroke of his talons. Now, see how
Moses, the meekest, noblest, most generous of men
was envied by ambitious spirits among the children of
Israel ! Ye take too much upon you, they said to him
and his brother, seeing all the congregation are holy,
every one of them, and the Lord is among them ;
wherefore, then, lift ye up yourselves above the con-
gregation of the Lord ? Ay, and even his own broth-
er and sister grew jealous of him. On pretence of
his having done wrong in marrying an Ethiopian
woman, they who should have supported the brother
to whom they owed their position, most basely and
ungratefully attempted to undermine his influence. It
was very wrong in Moses to make this marriage — to

178 THE FIRST-BORN.

enter into such an unsuitable alliance ; so they said to
the multitude. Yet mere dust and smoke that, which
they raised to cover their real motives and base ends.
The envy, from whose evil eye no excellence is a pro-
tecting charm, and which, rending asunder the most
sacred ties, refuses to spare a brother, was at the bot-
tom of the discontent. For while Aaron and Miriam
held such language to the people, masking their selfish
passions under a fair pretence of patriotism and piety,
listen to them in their tent, how different their lan-
guage to each other. Hath the Lord indeed spoken
only by Moses ? hath he not spoken also by us ?

Looking at such cases,, what else was to be expected
from the men of Nazareth, a place of proverbially bad
repute, than that they should grudge Jesus his honors,
and hate him for his success ? He had emerged from
deep obscurity into a fame that filled every mouth with
his works, and embraced within its widening circle all
the land. He had become famous ; and they had not.
It did not matter that that was not his fault. They
felt themselves grow less as he grew greater, and they
could not brook that ; such as were stars among them,
or wished to be thought so, were bitterly mortified to
find themselves extinguished in the light of this rising
sun. Therefore they hated Christ, giving him ground
to complain, A prophet is not without honor but in his
own country, and among his own kin, and in his own
house.

Let me turn your attention to one occasion when
this feeling, which had been grumbling like a pent-uj)
volcano, burst forth most insolently, most offensively.
Our Lord was teaching in the synagogue of Nazareth
— teaching with that strange, wonderful, divine wisdom,
which in its very dawn, when the child was but twelve

THE FIRST-BORN. 179

years old, astonished the gray divines and subtlest
lawyers of the temple ; and which not only made un-
prejudiced hearers hang on his gracious lips, but com-
pelled his enemies to confess, Never man spake like
this man. On the occasion to which I refer, envy
gnawed like a canker-worm, at the heart of his towns-
men. What business had he to reach an eminence
they might aspire to, but could never attain ? Hope-
less of that, although they could not rise to his height,
they might perchance pull him down to their own level.
They will try. And so, at the close of his discourse,
when we might have expected them to praise God for
the wisdom that had dropped from his lips, and to
congratulate Mary on her son, and their native town
on an inhabitant whose name would render Nazareth
famous to the latest ages, they cast about for something
which, by detracting from his glory, might gratify
their spleen. They had nothing to say against either
the matter or the manner of the discourse ; both were
perfect. Nor had they a whisper to breathe against
the life and character of the speaker. A circumstance
worthy of note I For it is one of the finest testimo-
nies borne to our Lord's lofty and holy life, that the
thirty years which he spent in a small town — where
leisure always abounds, and scandal is often rife, and
every man's character and habits are discussed in pri-
vate circles, and dissected by many cutting tongues —
did not furnish them with the shred of an excuse for
whispering an ill word against him. His life resem-
bled a polished mirror, which the foulest breath can-
not stain, nor dim beyond a passing moment. What a
noble testimony to Jesus Christ ! Holy, harmless, unde-
filed, separate from sinners, envy found no way to vent
its raalice and spit its venom at him, but by a taunt she

180 THE FIRST - BORN.

drew from his humble origin and poor relatives. As
if it were not an honor to rise above the circumstances
of our birth, as if a man's ascent by one step above his
original condition, fairly, honestly, and honorably won,
were not more a matter of just pride, than a descent
traced from the proudest ancestry, they said, Is not this
the carpenter, the son of Mary, the brother of James,
and Joses, and of Juda, and Simon ? and are not his
sisters here with us ? — whence, then, hath this man all
these things ?

Extending from his early youth into the years of
mature manhood, there is a great blank in our Lord's
history. Eighteen years of his life stand unaccounted
for ; and that blank, looking as dark as the starless
regions of the sky, tradition, usually so fertile in in-
vention, has not attempted to fill up. How often have
I wondered and tried to fancy what Jesus did, and
how he passed the time between his boyhood, when he
vanishes from our sight, and his tliirtieth year, when
he again appears upon the stage to enter on his public
ministry ? Thanks to his townsmen's envious sneer,
or, rather, thanks to Him who permitted the insult,
and thus has made the wrath- of man to praise him,
their insolent taunt throws a ray of light into the deep
obscurity. Their question. Is not this the carpenter ?
not, as at another time, the carpenter's son, but the
carpenter himself, suggests to us the picture of a hum-
ble home in Nazareth, known to tlie neighborhood as
the carpenter's, and under whose roof of thatch Jesus
resided with his mother — in all probability then a
widow, and, like many a widow since then, cheered by
the love and supported by the labors of a dutiful son.
I have no doubt that holy angels, turning their wings
away from lordly mansions and the proud palaces of

THE FIRST-BORN. 181

kings, often hovered over that peaceful home, as still
they, who are ministering spirits sent forth to minister
for them who shall be heirs of salvation, do over the
humblest abodes of piety. But, so far as this world
and its inhabitants were concerned, Jesus passed hi»
days in contented obscurity, unnoticed and unknown^
save to the neighbors, whose esteem he could not fail
to win by his pure life, and gentle temper, and holy
manners. He was to grow in favor with God and
man. All Nazareth regarded him as a paragon of
human virtues, and many a mother pointed to Mary's
son as the pattern her own lads should copy.

How wonderful it is to transport ourselves back, in
fancy, some eighteen hundred years, to that small town ;
and on asking, with the Greeks, to " see Jesus," to be
conducted to a humble dwelling, where chips of wood,
and squared logs, and unbarked trunks of trees lying
about, in the oak, and olive, and cedar, and sycamore
that had fallen to his axe, point out " the carpenter's.''
By the door, and under a bowering vine, which, trained
beneath the eaves over some rude trellis-work, forms a
grateful shade from the noon-day sun, a widow sits —
her fingers employed in weaving, but an expression in
her face and eye which indicates a mind engaged in far
loftier objects, thoughts deeper, holier, stranger, than a
buried husband, and a widow^s grief. She rises, lifts
the latch, and, stooping, we enter that lowly door ; and
there, bending to his work, we see the carpenter — in
him the Son of the Most High God ! Time was, when
he set his compass on the deep ; time was, when he
stood and measured the earth ; and now, with line, and
compass, and plane, and hatchet, the sweat dropping
from his lofty brow, he who made heaven and earth,
and the f=ea, and all that in them is, in the guise of a

182 THE FIRST-BORN.

common tradesman, bends at a carpenter's bench. How
low he stooped to save us I

The world was once astonished to see a king stoop
to such work. The founder of the Russian empire left
his palace and capital, the seductive pleasures and all
the pomp of royalty, to acquire the art of ship-building
in the dockyard of a Dutch sea-port. He learned it,
that he might teach it to his subjects ; he became a
servant that he might be the better master, and lay in
Russia the foundations of a great naval power. Nor
has his country been ungrateful ; her capital, which
bears his name, is adorned with a monument to his
memory, massive as his mind ; and she has embalmed
his deathless name in her heart and in her victories.
Yet, little as many think of Jesus, lightly as they
esteem him, a far greater sight is here. There, in a
king becoming a subject that his subjects might find in
him a king, there was much for men ; but here, there
is much both for men and angels to wonder at, and
praise through all eternity. The Son of God stoops to
toil. What an amazing scene ! Henceforth, let honest
labor feel itself ennobled ; let no man, whatever rank
he has attained, blush for the meanness of his origin,
or be ashamed of his father's trade ; let the sons of toil
lift their heads before the overweening pride of birth
or wealth, and feel themselves stand taller on the earth ;
let the idle learn to do some good in this world, and
turn their brains and hands to some useful purpose ;
above all, there let sinners behold a marvelous, most
affecting exhibition of the condescension and love of
God. This carpenter of Nazareth is He whom the
apostle calls " the first-born of every creature ;" and
" by him," he adds, " were all things created that are
in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible,

THE FIRST-BORN. 188

wliether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities,
or powers : all things were created by him and for
him : and he is before all things, and by him all things
consist." Let us now consider the meaning of this ex-
pression, " the first-born of every creature," and let me
shew —

I. What the expression does not and can not mean.

The first-born of every creature ! A strange expres-
sion I and one which, seeming to assign our Lord a
place among creatures, sounds so strangely that, in
some degree perplexed, we are ready to ask what the
apostle can mean by applying such a questionable term
to the eternal Son of God ? For, though he honors
him vrith the foremost place, still he seems to place him
in the rank of creatures.

Now, there are those who say that Christ was a mere
man ; and this expression, beyond all doubt, cuts the
ground out from below their feet. The first-born of
every creature — these words, assigning to our Lord, at
the very least, the highest place among tiie highest
angels, do not leave the Socinian an inch of ground to
stand on. But do they not, it may be asked, seem to
countenance the Arian heresy — the doctrine of those
who hold that, although the highest and noblest of all
created things, our Lord, notwithstanding, is still a
creature ? Is it so ? Have we mistaken his true char-
acter ? Shall we find, in going to glory, that, as ardent
love is prone to do, we have exaggerated his excellen-
ces ; and that while another occupies the throne of
heaven, Jesus is but the first in her noble peerage, the
highest and oldest of her ancient nobility ? Even as
being the first of creatures in point of rank and age, as
one whc Iwelt with God when there was none other

184 THE FIRST-BORN.

than himself, as one whose life dates back beyond the
far remote period when seas first rolled, and stars
shone, and angels sang, Jesus were an object, next to
God he were the object of our deepest interest. Yet
if our blessed Lord is only a creature, however great
his power, exalted his rank, pure his nature, lofty his
intellect, and incalculable the years of his age, I cannot
trust him with my soul ; I cannot depend on him for
salvation ; I cannot, dare not worship him, nor over-
leap this barrier, Thou shalt worship the Lord tliy God,
and him only shalt thou serve.

The Apostle John once saw a strange sight in
heaven. Yet, if, as the first-born of every creature,
our Lord be but a creature, nor hold divinity within a
human shrine, I undertake to show you one yet more
strange. There appeared, says the apostle, a great
wonder in heaven ; a woman clothed with the sun, and
the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown
of twelve stars : and she being with child, cried, travail-
ing in birth, and pain to be delivered. That in heaven !
Yet, if Jesus, though created prior to all others, and in
rank next therefore to God, is, after all, but a creature,
this mystic woman, so superbly clad and crowned, so
strangely pregnant and pained in heaven, offers no
wonder so inexplicable as these angels do, who worship
at the Saviour's feet ; nor in that upper world, where
there are neither births nor burials, do her birth-pang
cries sound so strange in my ears, as that command
from the excellent majesty. Let all the angels of God
worship him. If he is not God, how can the law, whicli
forbids me to worship any but God, allow to angels
what it denies to man ? Can that be right in them
which is wrong iu us ? Can that be true worsliip in
heaven which were idolatrv on earth ? If it bo sin to

THE FIRST-BORN. 185

render divine worship to a creature here, it appears to
me that it would be but further wrong, and a deeper
wrong, an aggravation of the sin, to worship one in
heaven ; and, therefore, startled by an expression which
seems to rank our Lord with creatures, we might, at
the first blush of the thing, address Paul in the words
of the men of Athens.

Having astonished her philosophers, having preached
in Jesus and resurrection from the grave a doctrine
which her boldest spirits had never ventured to imag-
ine, and having, by news such as these news-seekers
had never dreamed of, thrown the city into commotion,
they hurried him away to the Areopagus, saying. Thou
bringest certain strange things to our ears : we would
know therefore what these things mean. We might
be disposed to say the same to Paul. He brings
strange tidings to our ears — he calls Christ " the first-
born of creatures." What does he mean ? Well, what
he does not mean is very plain from the way in which
he conjoins this verse with the next. In the same
breath, and as part of the same sentence, the apostle
says that He created all things. Created all things !
But he could not create himself, and he was therefore
himself uncreated ; and Paul therefore never could
mean to say that our Lord, however high might be the
rank assigned him, was to be placed in the rank of
creatures. No man inspired of God, no logician like
the apostle, no person even of common sense, could
write, nor would men of ordinary reason and intelli-
gence believe, a thing so absurd and self-contradictory
as, that anything could create itself, or a thing created
possess creating power. To create, to call something
out of nothing, be it a dying spark or a blazing sun, a
dew-drop cradled in a lily's bosom, or the vast ocean

186 THE FIRST-BORN.

in the hollow of God's hand, mole-hill or mountain,
the dancing notes of a sunbeam or the rolling planets
of a system, a burning seraph or a feeble glow-worm,
one of the ephemera that takes wing in the morning
and is dead at night, or one of the angels that sang
when our Lord was born ; whatever be the thing crea-
ted, the power to create is God's, the act of creation
his ; and, therefore, since Paul says that Jesus Christ
created all things, he cannot mean to depose our Lord
from the throne of divinity, and lower God's only be-
gotten son to the level of a created being.

II. Consider what this phrase, "the first-born of
every creature," does mean.

Eli trembled for the ark of God. And dear as that
ark, which rash hands had borne into the battle-field,
to the devout, blind old priest, is our Lord's divinity
to us. The loss of that broke his neck, the loss of this
would break our hearts. But this expression gives no
cause for anxiety about Christ's honors. It does not
detract from, but rather illustrates his divinity ; and
is a figure of speech, under which that doctrine lies as
firm, solid, immovable, as the living rock beneath the
flush of flowers and the green sward tliat cover it.
Paul has clothed the doctrine in a Jewish metaphor,
and to understand it aright, we must examine it, not
with Christian, but with Jewish eyes. For that pur-
pose, let us study this expression by the light of these
two cases : —

Isaac is old and blind. He is sitting in his tent
like a man who is making his will — engaged, although
death was yet distant, in deathbed arrangements. His
youngest son, who has passed himself off for his elder
brotl)or, and thereby stolen that brother's rights, has

THE FIRST - BORN. 187

just gone out, when Esau, as ignorant as his father of
the trick that had been so cleverly but so foully played,
enters, saying. Let my father arise, and eat of his son's
venison, that thy soul may bless me. The old man,
knowing that he had already given away the blessing,
and believing that he had bestowed it upon Esau, sur-
prised at the request, says. Who art thou ? I am thy
son, thy first-born Esau, was the answer. It struck
Isaac with sudden and dire alarm. Fearful that he
had given away what he could not recall, and, under
the impression that he was the first-born, had conferred
on another rights belonging to Esau, he trembled very
exceedingly, and said, " Who ? where is he that hath
taken venison, and brought it me, and I have eaten of
all before thou camest, and have blessed him ? yea, and
he shall be blessed. Now, the truth flashed on Esau,
and, startling the tents around, he utters " a great and
exceeding bitter cry." Unaccustomed to tears, he
wept like a woman ; and the calm, subdued, but deep
grief of the good old man mingled with the wild,
sweeping, terrible, impetuous torrent of Esau's pas-
sions. But vain the flood of grief ! He found no place
of repentance, though he sought it carefully with tears.
Behold, said Isaac, as he spoke of him who had won
the game, and won it by passing himself off as the
first-born, I have made him thy lord, and all his breth-
ren have I given him for servants. And so you see
from this case, that to be what Esau really was, and
what Jacob said he was, to be the first-born, and ob-
tain the rights belonging to that condition, was, as a
matter of law and order, to be heir and lord of all.

From the tent of the patriarch, turn now to the
palace in Jerusalem. An old man, worn out with
wars and troubles fills the throne — the sceptre shaking

188 THE FIRST-BORN.

in his palsied hands. It is necessary that Jehoshaphat
— for this old king is he — have a coadjutor and suc-
cessor ; and in seven sons who stand before him, we
should think tliat he had room for choice. What is
his decision ? To the six younger he gave great gifts
of silver, and of gold, and of precious things, with
fenced cities in Judah, but the kingdom, it is said, gave
he to Jehoram. And why ? AVhat moved him to
that? His princely qualities? He had none'. He
was a bloody monster ; for his father's ashes were
hardly cold, when he murdered, in cold blood, all
these, his brethren. The kingdom, it is said, gave he
to Jehoram ; because he was the first-horn. And
there, again, you see, that to be the first-born, or to
get the rights belonging to that position, was to be
heir and lord of all.

Thus, springing from the customs of the country,
and by long use and wont, the expression '\first-horn,^^
became among the Jews just another word for head,
lord, sovereign proprietor of all. Of this fact, let me
add, we have a most remarkable example in tlie lan-
guage of some Jewish rabbins. They have not hesi-
tated to apply the very term to God himself, calling-
Jehovah The First-Born of the World ; and that in
honor, in deepest reverence — meaning thereby to exalt
him above all creatures, as prince, and king, and Lord
of all. See now, how that which seemed at first sight
contrary to our Lord's divinity, is not only consistent
with it, but confirmatory of it. In pronouncing him
" the first-born of every creature," my text exalts Jesus
above all creatures, and crowns him divine Head, and
Lord, and Sovereign of all. It proclaims one of his
many royal titles, and invests liim with the insignia of
universal empire. Revealing the divine heights from

THE FIRST - BORN. 189

which he descended to the humiliation of Calvary,
how should it endear him to our hearts, and recommend
him to our glad and grateful acceptance ! Calvary
grows in wonder, our sins sink deeper in guilt, and our
souls rise higher in value, as we contemplate the glory
from which he stooped, to bow his head in death upon
an ignominious cross ; dying, as is never to be forgot-
ten, " the propitiation for our sins : and not for ours
only, but also for the sins of the whole world."

III. Our Lord, as in this sense, " the first-born of
every creature," existed before all.

One day the door of Egypt's palace is thrown open,
and Joseph — a model of beautiful manhood, mind in
his eagle eye, strength in his form, majesty in his man-
ner, and on his countenance that lofty look which be-
speaks high virtue and integrity — enters, accompanied
by his father. The old man's step was plow and feeble ;
the old man's eyes were dim with age ; a few thin
silver locks mingled with the snowy beard that flowed
down his breast, as he came forward leaning on
Joseph's arm, and bending beneath the weight of years.
Struck by the contrast, and moved to respect by the
patriarch's venerable aspect, Pharaoh accosted him
with the question. How old art thou ?

Age naturally awakens our respect. " Thou shalt
rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of
the old man." That beautiful and divine command
touches a chord in every heart, and sounds in harmony
with the best feelings of our nature ; and so a Greek
historian tells how, in the pure and early and most
virtuous days of the republic, if an old man entered
the crowded assembly, all ranks rise to give room and
place to him. Age throws such a character of dignity

190 THE FIRST-BORN.

even over inanimate objects, that the spectator regards
them with a sort of awe and veneration. We have
stood before the hoary and ivy-mantled ruin of a bygone
age with deeper feelings of respect tlian ever touched
us in the marble halls and amid the gilded grandeur of
modern palaces ; nor did the proudest tree which lifted
its umbrageous head and towering form to the skies
ever affect us with such strange emotions as an old,
withered, wasted trunk that, though hollowed by time
into a gnarled shell, still showed some green signs of
life. Nor, as we lingered beneath the shades of that
ancient yew, could we look on such an old tenant of
the earth without feelings of veneration, when we
thought how it had been bathed by the sun which shone
upon the cross of Calvary, and had stood white with
hoar-frost that Christmas night on which angels sang
the birth of our Saviour King.

It is a curious thing to stand alone beside a swathed,
dark, dusty mummy, which some traveler has brought
from its tomb on the banks of the Nile ; and to mark
with wonder how the gold-leaf still glitters on the nails
of the tapering fingers, and the raven hair still clings
to the mouldering skull, and how, with the arms peace-
fully folded on the breast, and the limbs stretched out
to their full extent, humanity still retains much of its
original form. But when we think how many centu-
ries have marched over that dead one's head ; that in
this womanly figure, with the metal mirror still beside
her, in which she had once admired her departed
charms, we see, perhaps, the wife of Joseph, perhaps
the royal maid, who, coming to give her beauty to the
pure embraces of the Nile, received the infant Moses
in her kind protecting arms, our wonder changes into
a sort of awe.

THE FIRST - BORN-. 191

Age, indeed, heightens the grandeur of the grandest
objects. The bald hoar mountains rise in dignity, the
voice of ocean sounds more sublime on her stormy
shores, and starry heavens sparkle with brighter splen-
dor, when we think how old they are ; how long it is
since that ocean began to roll, or these lamps of night
to shine. Yet these, the first star that ever shone, nay,
the first angel that ever sang, are but things of yester-
day beside this manger, where, couched in straw and
wrapped in swaddling clothes, a new-born babe is sleep-
ing. " Before Abraham was," or these were, " I am,"
says Jesus. His mother's maker, and his mother's
child, he formed the living womb that gave him birth,
and, ten thousand ages before that, the dead rock that
gave him burial. A child, yet Almighty God ; a son,
yet the everlasting Father, his history carries us back
into eternity ; and the dignities which he left, those
glories which he veiled, how should they lead us to
adore his transcendent love, and to kneel the lower at
his cross to cry, Jesus ! thy love to me was wonderful,
passing the love of women. My soul doth magnify the
Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.

For by him were all things created that are in heaven, and that are
In earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominionsi
or principalities, or powers.— Colossians i. 16.

As I read my text, it appears to me plainly to assert
and clearly to demonstrate, tlie doctrine of our Lord's
divinity. Now the incarnation of God, more than any
other truth in the Bible, is one of pure revelation.
There are many other doctrines there, of which men,
without any aid from inspiration, have arrived at a
more or less clear conception ; guided to the discovery
of them by no other lights than those of reason and of
conscience. Therefore Paul says, " When the Gentiles,
which have not the law, do by nature the things con-
tained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law
unto themselves ; which show the work of the law
written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing
witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or
else excusing one another."

It will make this doctrine stand out all the more
prominently as that great and sacred mystery which
angels desired to look into, and at the same time serve,
what I think an important purpose to direct your
attention —

I. To some of those cases which illustrate the har-
(192)

THE CEEATOR. 193

mony between Natural Religion and our Christian
faith. Such, for instance, is —

1. The doctrine of the being of a God. I do not
need to open the Bible to learn that. It is enough
that I open my eyes, and turn them on that great
book of nature, where it is legibly written, clearly
revealed in every page. God ! that word may be read
in the stars and on the face of the sun ; it is painted
on every flower, traced on every leaf, engraven on
every rock ; it is whispered by the winds, sounded
forth by the billows of ocean, and may be heard by
the dullest ear in the long-rolling thunder. I be-
lieve in the existence of a God, but not in the exist-
ence of an atheist ; or that any man is so, who can be
considered in his sound and sober senses. What should
we think of one who attempted to account for any
other works of beauty and evident design, as he pro-
fesses to do for those of God ? Here is a classic tem-
ple ; here stands a statue, designed with such taste
and executed with such skill, that one almost expects
the marble to leap from its pedestal ; here hangs a
painting of some dead beloved one, so life-like as to
move our tears ; here, in Iliad, or ^neid, or Paradise
Lost, is a noble poem, full of the grandest thoughts,
and clothed in sublimest imagery ; here is a piece of
most delicate, intricate, and ingenious mechanism.
Well, let a man tell me gravely, that these were the
work of chance ; tell me, when I ask who made them,
that nobody made them ; tell me, that the arrangement
of the letters in this poem, and of the colors" in that
picture, of the features in the statue, was a matter of
mere chance ; how T should stare at him ? and con-
clude, without a moment's hesitation, that I had fallen
9

19i THE CREATOR.

into the company of a raving madman or of some driv-
elling idiot. Turning away from such atheistic rav-
ings about the infinitely more glorious works of God,
with what delight does reason listen, and with what
readiness does she assent, and with what distinct and
hearty voice does she echo the closing words of the
seraphim's hymn, " the whole earth is full of his glory !"

2. Such also is the doctrine that man is a sinner.
Who needs to open the Bible to learn that? It is
enough that I open my heart ; or read in the light of
conscience the blotted record of my past life. " I know
and approve the better, and yet follow the worse," was
the memorable saying of one of the wisest heathens ;
yet it did not need any superlative wisdom to arrive
at that conclusion. Dr. Livingstone tells us that he
found the rudest tribes of Africa, on whose Cimmerian
darkness no straggling ray of revealed truth had ever
fallen, ready to admit that they were sinners. Indeed,
they hold almost everything to be sin which, as such,
is forbidden in the word of God. Nor is it possible to
read his clear statements on that subject, without ar-
riving at this very interesting and important conclu-
sion, that the ten commandments received from God's
own hand by Moses on Mount Sinai, are but the copy
of a much older law — that law which the finger of his
Maker wrote on Adam's heart, and which, though
sadly defaced by the fall, may still, like the inscription
on a time-eaten, moss-grown stone, be traced on ours.
See how guilt reddens in the blush, and consciousness
of sin betrays itself in the downcast look of cliildhoodi
Even when they drink up iniquity as the ox drinketh
up the water, and wallow in sin as the swine in the
mire, there is a conscience within men that convicts of

THE CREATOR. 195

guilt and warns of judgment. Dethroned, but not
exiled, she still asserts her claims, and fights for her
kingdom in the soul ; and, resuming the seat of lordly
judgment, with no more respect for sovereigns than
beggars, she summons them to her bar, and thunders
on their heads. Felix trembles. Herod turns pale,
dreading in Christ the apparition of the Baptist ;
while Cain, fleeing from his brother's grave, wanders
away conscience-stricken into the gloomy depths of
the forest and the solitudes of an unpeopled world.
Like the ghost of a murdered man, conscience haunts
the house that was once her dwelling, making her
ominous voice heard at times even by the most har-
dened in iniquity. In her the rudest savage carries a
God within him, who warns the guilty, and echoes
these words of Scripture, Depart from evil, and do
good. Stand in awe and sin not.

3. Such also is tlie doctrine that sin deserves pun-
ishment. Hell is no discovery of the Bible. In vain
do men flee from Christianity to escape what their
uneasy conscience feels to be a painful doctrine ; one
which, in their anxiety to lull conscience asleep, they
reject as a doctrine of incredible horrors. If that is
an objection to this book, it is an equally valid objec-
tion to every religious creed which man ever held and
cherished. A great poet has represented with great
power the cataracts and rivers, the rocks and glaciers,
the hurtling avalanche and rolling thunders of the
Alps, and those lovely valleys where summer, attired
in a robe of flowers, seems sleeping at the feet of win-
ter, as forming one great choir, and with their various
voices all proclaiming, " God ;" but it is not less sol-
emn than true, it is no poetic fancy, but a plain strik-

196. THE CREATOR.

ing fact, tliat the voices of all nations, of all tongues
rude or polished, have proclaimed a hell. No heathen
religion but had its hell, and warned its followers of
a place beyond the grave wliere vice shall meet the
doom which it escaped on earth. And in their pic-
tures of the damned, where we see avarice forced to
drink molten gold, and eternal vultures tearing at the
heart of lust and cruelty, what, again, is the voice of
nature but an echo of words we do well to take heed
to, Be sure your sin will find you out ?

4. Such also is the doctrine that man cannot save
himself. In what country, or in what age of heathen-
ism does man appear standing up erect before his God,
demanding justice ? In none. All her temples had
vicarious sacrifices and atoning altars, at which man
is On his knees, a suppliant for the mercy of the gods.
The very Pagans had more sense than some of us.
Glimmering as was the light of nature, they saw things
more clearly than to be satisfied with themselves.
They never believed that, through their own merits,
they could be their own saviours. Hence their costly
offerings ; their hecatombs of victims : the painful and
horrid sacrifices by which they sought to propitiate an
angry God. They gave the fruit of their body for the
sin of their soul ; and, to the shame of those of us who
will take no trouble for salvation, and grudge the
smallest tax for the cause of Christ, they hesitated at
nothing by which they could hope to avert heaven's
wrath, and win its favor. The voice of that cromlech
stone, which still stands on our moors, the centre of the
Druid's gray, lonely, mystic circle, and on whose
sloping surface I liave traced the channel which, when
human victims lay bound on this altar, drained off the

THE CREATOR. 197

blood of beautiful maiden, or grim captive of the fight —
the voice of those tears the Indian mother sheds, as she
plucks the sweet babe from her throbbing bosom to
fling it into the Jumna or Ganges' sacred stream — the
voice of those ruined temples which, silent now, once
resounded with the groans of expiring victims, what
are these, again,- but an imperfect echo of the words,
Not by works of righteousness which we have done,
but according to his mercy he saved us ?

5. Such also is the doctrine that the soul survives the
stroke of death. Our spiritual, ethereal essence had
its symbol in the heaven-ascending flame which the
heathen carved upon their tombs ; and their hopes of
immortality were expressed, as well by the lamp they
lighted amid the gloom of the sepulchre, as by the ever-
green garlands that crowned the monuments of their
dead. This hope has been a star that shone in every
sky ; a flower that bloomed in the poorest soil ; a flame
that burned in the coldest bosom. Immortality ! that
made heroes of cowards. It imparted to weakness a
giant's strength. It made the courage of tlie bravest
warrior burn high in the day of battle. It nerves
yonder unbending savage to endure, without a groan
to gratify his captors or disgrace his tribe, the tortures
of fire and stake. Why do these weeping Greeks ap-
proach the dead man, as he lies on his bier for burial,
and open his mouth to put in an oholus ? The coin is
passage-money for the surly ferryman who rows the
ghosts over Styx's stream. And why, in that forest
grave, around which plumed and painted warriors
stand unmoved and immovable as statues, do they
bury, with the body of the Indian chief, his canoe and
bow and arrow ? He goes to follow tlie chase, and

198 THE CREATOR.

hunt the deer in the spectre land where the Great Spi-
rit lives, and the spirits of his fathers have gone before
him. How easy it is to trace in these customs and
beliefs, a sort of rude copy of the words. Life and im-
mortality, I shall not die, but live.

6. Although 1 cannot say that the doctrine of a
resurrection is to be placed in the same class with these
universal fixed beliefs that so remarkably illustrate the
harmony between the sacred Scriptures and the voice
of nature, yet may not the hope of a resurrection have
sometimes shot, like a bright meteor, across the mid-
night darkness of heathen griof ? That doctrine did,
indeed, astonish the Athenians ; and its novelty and
apparent absurdity led them to pronounce Paul a bab-
bler. And to the eye of sense, no doubt the tomb looks
dark as blackest midnight ; nor can the fondest wislies
detect a sign of life slumbering in the cold ashes of the
grave. Yet may not the feelings which prompt to such
tender care of the lifeless body, to lay it out so decently,
to bury it with funeral honors, to build it a tomb, more
keenly to resent dishonor done to the relics of the dead
than any done to the persons of the living, liave sug-
gested the idea of a resurrection? Might not grief
have thus given birth to the blissful tliought, that after
a long night, the sun that had set would rise again ;
and that the long winter would be followed by a spring,
when, like the beautiful flowers that have hid tlieir
heads in the ground, the dead would leave their graves
to live and bloom anew ?

No such truth might be hidden, as one of the ancient
mysteries in the heathen legends of the Phoenix that
sprung from its ashes into new life ; yet there are
things in nature whicli suggest a resurrection of the

THE CREATOR. 199

dead. Such is the well-known analogy presented by
the changes which many creatures undergo. The in-
sect, at first a creeping worm, crawls, on the earth, its
home the ground, or some humble plant or decaying
matter, which feeds its voracious appetite. The time
of its first change arrives. It weaves itself a shroud ;
it makes itself a coffin ; and under the soil, in some
cranny of the wall, in a convenient fissure of rock or
tree, as in a catacomb, it finds a quiet grave. There,
shrouded, and coffined, and buried, and to all appear-
ance dead, it lies till its appointed change. The hour
arrives. It bursts these cerements ; and a pure, winged,
beautiful creature, it leaves them, to roam henceforth
in sunny skies, and find its bed in the soft bosom, and
its food in the nectar of odorous flowers. Why should
not that change, or the analogy which Paul found also
in following nature, have suggested to the heathen what
they illustrate to us — a resurrection ? He saw our
grave in the furrow of the plough ; our burial in the
corn dropped into the soil ; our decay in the change
undergone by the seed ; and our resurrection, wlien,
bursting its sheath and pushing aside the clod, it rises
green and beautiful, to wave its head in summer days,
high above the ground that was once its grave. That
which thou sowest, he says, is not quickened, except it
die ; and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that
body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of
wheat, or of some other grain. So also is the resur-
rection of the dead. It is sown in corruption ; it is
raised in incorruption : it is sown in dishonor ; it is
raised in glory : it is sown in weakness ; it is raised in
power : it is sown a natural body ; it is raised a spi-
ritual body.

Different, differing much from these, the doctrine of

200 THE CREATOR.

God incarnate is one which nature nowhere teaches us ;
neither by analogy, nor reason, nor intuition, nor con-
science. Our proofs of this doctrine, therefore, must
be sought for in Scripture, and all our ideas concern-
ing it drawn thence. This mystery, which angels de-
sired to look into, is one to be approached with the
faith of a little child whom his father has taken out
beneath the starry sky, to tell the wondering boy that
these little, bright , twinkling lights are suns big and
blazing as our own. A mystery this, to be approached
with the deepest gratitude by those, whom to save
from unutterable woe, the great God veiled liis glory,
and became a man to die. Without controversy, great
is the mystery of godliness : God was manifest in the
flesh, justified in the spirit, seen of angels, preached
unto the Gentiles, believed on in tiie world, received
up into glory.

Now, in illustration of this doctrine I remark —

II. That the word of God, botli liere and else-
where, attributes the work of creation to Jesus Christ.

Our Lord has been sometimes connected with crea-
tion more in beautiful fancies than by plain strong
facts. There is a flower, for example, one of the most
complex, yet most beautiful in nature, which the piety
of .other days associated with the sufi'erings and deep
love of Calvary. In the form and arrangement of its
parts it presents such a remarkable resemblance to the
cross and the nails of our Lord's torture, encircled by
a halo of floral glory, that, as if it had been originally
made to anticipate and afterwards left to commemo-
rate our Redeemer's sufi'erings, it has received the
name of t\ie pass ion- floiuer. And I remember how, in
sweet wooded dell or on the brown heather hill, we

THE CREATOR. 201

were wont to pull up one of the fern tribe, and, having
cut its root across, gaze with boyish wonder on the
initials of Jesus Christ printed there, black as with
ink on the pale wounded stem. Nor are these the only
objects in nature that have been associated in some
way with our Lord. When the mariner, leaving our
northern latitudes, pushes southward to plough a sun-
nier ocean, he sees a starry cross emerging from the
deep ; and as his course tends further southward, it
rises and continues to rise higher in the heavens, till,
when the pole-star has dipped beneath the wave, he
gazes with feelings of awe and wonder on the sign of
salvation blazing above his head---its body and arms
formed of brilliant stars.

In these things a devout superstition, that loved per-
haps more fondly than wisely, sought to gratify its
affections. Nor do we despise, but rather respect the
feelings which prompted ancient piety even in this way
to identify our Lord with the wonderful works of God.
It is not, however, in these devout and poetic fancies
that we either seek or see our Lord's connection with
that kingdom. But as, with the genius that aspires to
immortality, and anticipates the admiration of future
ages, the painter leaves his name on a corner of the
canvas, so Inspiration, dipping her pen in indelible
truth, has inscribed the name of Jesus upon all we see
' — on sun and stars, flower and tree, rock and mountain,
the unstable waters and the firm land ; and also on
what we do not see, nor shall till death has removed
the veil, angels and spirits, the city and heavens of the
eternal world. This is no matter of fancy. It is a
fact. It is a blessed fact. No voice ever sounded more
distinctly to my ear than that of revealed truth, pro-
claiming Jesus, Lord of all. How plainly is that
9^

202 THE CREATOR.

great truth written on the face of my text ! He who
runs may read it there. And to the same effect the
Scriptures have precept upon precept, line upon line,
here a little and there a little. In seeking examples
of this, we are embarrassed, not by the scantiness, but
by the abundance of them. And as two or three com-
petent and in every way credible witnesses are held in
a court of law to be worth as many as would crowd
the court-house, let me adduce two or three passages
which ascribe the work of creation to our Lord in
language plain as facts, and clear as noonday.

1. In 1 Corinthians viii. 6, Paul says, " there is but
one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we
in him ; and one Lord Jesus Christ, hy whom are all
things, and we hy him.^'

2. In Ephesians iii. 9, Paul also says, " to make all
men see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which
from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God,
who created all things hy Jesus Christ."

3. When our Lord was on his trial, and stood be-
fore his judges and false accusers, as a sheep before her
shearers, he was dumb, opening not his mouth. He
heard them' as if he heard them not. Eager, yet afraid
to strike, the high-priest at length rose from his throne,
and, fixing his eye on the prisoner, said, I adjure thee
by the living God, that thou tell us whether thou be
the Christ, the son of God. Whereupon — the first
time he broke silence — our Saviour replied. Thou hast
said : nevertheless I say unto you, hereafter shall ye
Bee the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of power,
and coming in the clouds of heaven. Then, as we are

THE CREATOR. 203

told, the high-priest rent his clothes, saying, He hath
spoken blasphemy ; what further need have we of wit-
nesses? And now, in seeking to crown Christ with
the honors which they there foully denied him how
may I borrow the last words from that murderer's
mouth, saying, after Paul, in these passages from Cor-
inthians and from Ephesians, has so clearly attributed
the work of creation to Jesus, What further need have
we of witnesses ? But call in the apostle John. Ask
him what he has to say on this great subject, what
evidence he has to give, what testimony he can bear ?
How full, distinct, and clear his answer ! Speaking
by inspiration, and with his finger pointed at Christ,
he says, " All things were made by him; and ivithout
him was not anything made that was made J ^ And thus
he writes concerning the very same person of whom,
in the same chapter, he says, " The Word was ma(ie
flesh, and dwelt among us."

Did these holy men anticipate, did they foresee a
day when, walking in the light of their own fire, and,
in the sparks which they had kindled, presumptuous
men would rise up in the church to deny the divinity
of our Lord ; and, with that precious doctrine, to deny,
in course of time, all the doctrines to which it is the
key-stone? It would seem so. Their anxious care to
make plain statements still more plain, looks like it.
To make assurance doubly sure, to place our faith on
a foundation secure against all assaults, I pray you to
observe how the evangelist is not content with simply
saying that all things were made by Christ but adds,
as if to double-lock the door against the approaching
heresy, " without him ivas not anything made that ivas
THodey Wonderful news to tell in a sinner's ear ! the
stupendous fabric of creation, yon starry vault, this

204 THE CREATOR.

magnificent world, were the work of the hands by
which, in love of you, he hung, a mangled form, on the
cross of Calvary !

No two harps out of heaven or in it ever sounded
in more perfect harmony than the words of John and
the language of Paul in my text. My text is the state-
ment of John expanded— the bud blown out into a
flower — the indestructible precious gold beaten out
over a broader surface. And see how the same anxiety
appears here also that there shall be no mistake!
What care is taken of your faith I Paul would pre-
vent the shadow of a doubt crossing your mind about
our Lord having a right to the divine honors of Crea-
tor I " By him," he says, " all things were created.
Did an angel, standing at his side when he penned
these words, stoop down, and whisper in his ear that
iu coming days men would rise to throw doubt over
the truth, and, explaining it away, attempt to rob
Jesus of his honor ? I know not ; but to make the
truth still more plain, he adds, " that are in heaven
and in earth." Not content Avith that, he uses yet
more comprehensive terms, and to embrace all the re-
gions of God's universe above the earth, and beyond
the starry bounds of heaven, he adds, " visible and
invisible." Nor leaves his noble task till he has swept
the highest and the lowest things, men and worms,
angels and insects, all into Christ's hand — adding,
" whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principali-
ties, or powers."

Thanks be to God that a doctrine so precious ig
written in language so plain. As soon may the puny
arm of a mortal man pluck the sun from the heavens,
as pluck our Lord's divinity out of this text. WqJI
plight dying Stephen, gazing through the opened hea-

THE CREATOR. 205

vens, behold Jesus at the right hand of God. Where
else should he see him — the man of sorrows whom
Paul here, to our joy, and comfort, and triumph, exalts
to the throne of an adoring universe ? In the person
of Jesus Christ, tlie Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice.
Take, believers, the full comfort of a doctrine which is
so fraught with honor to God and salvation to man.
Rejoice, and be exceeding glad. Rejoice in the Lord
alway ; and again I say, rejoice. Are you afraid ? Are
you in trouble about anything whatever ? Are you
racked with cares ? Do earthly or spiritual fears disturb
your peace, and cast a cold dark shadow on your soul ?
Does your faith faint, stagger ? Rise from your knees ;
go forth this night; leave the cross, that affecting
monument of his love, to contemplate tlie glorious
monuments of his power ; stand beneath heaven's re-
splendent arch ; and when, led on by the pale evening
star, Orion, and Arcturus, and the sweet Pleiades, and
all the heavenly host in harmonious order, as to the
music of higher spheres, come marching on across the
field of dax'kness, list to the noble utterance of the old
Hebrew prophet. In what lofty strains he speaks of
your Lord and Saviour I What courage his words in-
spire, as, raising his arm to the starry skies, he exclaims,
" Behold who hath created these things, that bringeth
out their host by number : he calleth them all by names
by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in
power ; not one faileth. Hast thou not known, hast
thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the
Creator of the ends of tlie earth, fainteth not, neither
is weary ? He giveth power to the faint. They that
wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they
shall mount up with wings as eagles ; they shall run
and not be weary ; and they shall walk, and not faint."

All things were created for Him.— Colossians i. 16.

When Ulysses returned with fond anticipations to
his home in Ithaca, his family did not recognize him.
Even the wife of his bosom denied her husband — so
changed was he by an absence of twenty years, and the
hardships of a long-protracted war. It was thus true
of the vexed and astonished Greek as of a nobler
King, that he came unto his own, and his own received
him not. In this painful position of affairs he called
for a bow which he had left at home, when, embarking
for the seige of Troy, he bade farewell to the orange-
groves and vine-clad hills of Ithaca. With character-
istic sagacity, he saw how a bow, so stout and tough
that none but himself could draw it, might be made to
bear witness on his behalf. He seized it. To their
surprise and joy, like a green wand lopped from a wil-
low tree, it yields to his arms ; it bends till the bow-
string touches his ear. His wife, now sure that he is
her long lost and long lamented husband, throws her-
self into his fond embraces, and his household confess
him the true Ulysses.

* If I may compare small things with great, our Lord
gave such proofs of his divinity when he too stood a
stranger in his own house, despised and rejected of
men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.

(206)

THE END OF CREATION. 207

He bent the stubborn laws of nature to his will. He
proved himself Creator by his mastery over creation.
The winds that sweep the deep, and the free wild sea
they sweep alike controlled, leprosy and shaking palsy
healed, the rolling eye of madness calmed, the shrouded
corpse and the buried dead restored to life by a word,
calmly spoken after the manner and with the power of
a master — these things leave one to wonder that the
spectators did not fall down to worship 5 and, recog-
nizing God in the guise of man, say, the voice of the
Lord is powerful ; the voice of the Lord is full of
majesty. If nothing could be more sublime than that
scene on the Lake of Galilee, when, tranquil in aspect,
Jesus stood on the bow of the reeling boat, and while
the storm played around, and the spray flew in white
sheets over his naked head, calmly eyed the war of
elements, and raising his hand, said, "Peace, be still !"
could anything be more conclusive than the evidence
which these waves and winds afforded, that the Master
himself was come home ? No clearer shone the stars
that night, mirrored in the placid waters. There, the
winds lulled and the wild waves at rest, deep silence
spake. By that sudden hush, nature proclaimed him
God, Lord, Creator of all. Declared to be so by in-
spired tongues, and by such strange witnesses as winds
and waves, devils, disease, death, and the grave —
heaven concurs in their testimony ; by the voices of its
saints and angels, of its worship, hymns, harps, and
hallelujahs, proclaiming him Creator and Lord of all.
Let us in imagination pass the angel guardians of
those gates where no error enters, and, entering that
upper sanctuary which no discord divides, no heresy
disturbs, let us find out who worship, and who is wor-
shipped there. The law, Thou shalt worship the Lord

208 THE END OF CREATION.

thy God, and him only shalt thou serve, extends to
heaven as well as to earth ; so that if our Lord is only
the highest of all creatures, we shall find him on his
knees — not the worshipped, but a worshipper ; and
from his lofty, and lonely, and to other creatures unap-
proachable pinnacle, looking up to God, as does the
highest of the snow-crowned Alps to the sun, that,
shining far above it, bathes its head in light. We liave
sought him, I shall suppose, in that group where his
mother sits with the other Marys, sought him among
the twelve apostles, or where the chief of apostles
reasons with angels on things profound, or where David,
royal leader of the heavenly choir, strikes his harp, or
where the beggar, enjoying the repose of Abraham's
bosom, forgets his wrongs, or where martyrs and con-
fessors, and they which have come out of great tribu-
lation, with robes of purest white, and crowns of
brightest glory, swell the song of salvation Jto our God
which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb. He
is not there. Rising upwards, we seek him where
angels hover on wings of light, or, with feet and faces
veiled, bend before a throne of dazzling glory. Nor
is he there. He does not belong to their company.
Verily, he took not on him the nature of angels.

Eighteen hundred years ago Mary is rushing through
the streets of Jerusalem, speed in her steps, wild anxiety
in her look, one question to all on her eager lips,
** Have you seen my son ? " Eighteen hundred years
ago, on these same streets, some Greeks accost a Gali-
lean fisherman, saying, " Sir, we would see Jesus."
Now, were we, bent like his mother on finding, like
these Greeks on seeing him, to stay a passing angel,
and accost him in the words, " Sir, we would see Jesus,"
what would he do ? How would his arm rise, and his

THE END OF CREATION. 209

finger point us upward to the throne as he fell down
to worship, and worshipping, to swell the flood of song
which in this one full stream mingles the names of the
Father, and of the Son — Blessing, and honor, and
glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the
throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever. Such
a glorious vision, such worship, the voices that sounded
on John's eai* as the voice of many waters, the distant
roar of ocean, are in perfect harmony with the exalted
honor and divine offices which Paul assigns to our
Lord in the words. All things were created for him.

In directing your attention now to the purpose for
which Christ created all things, I remark —

I. That my text furnishes another proof of our
Lord's divinity. «•♦

He is in the position of a servant who works for
others ; he of a master, Avho by other hands, or his own,
works for himself. Applying that remark to the case
before us, look to the condition of man. Whatever
office man fills in providence, he is a servant ; and on
crowned monarchs, who are, and should consider them-
selves, but upper servants, as well as on the lowest
menials, Paul lays this duty, Whether, ye eat, or drink,
or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God. God
being our end, as well as our beginning, we are to do
nothing for ourselves ; but everything for him. Nor do
angels, though holding a much higher rank in creation,
differ much from us in this respect. Far from it. Even
as we see that law which rolls every drop of w^ater to
the ocean, and rounds the tear on our cheek, illustrated
on its grandest scale in those skies where suns roll,
and stars rise, and wandering comets travel, so, if we
would see the law of love producing perfect service,

210 THE END OF CREATION.

and perfect servants, we must look to heaven. Nor
wing flies, nor harp sounds, nor heart beats yonder,
but in divine harmony with the great law of God's
moral kingdom. Do all to the glory of God. They are
all and ever engaged in God's service. Hear what is
said of them, " He shall give his angels charge over
thee," " I, Jesus, have sent mine angel to testify," " See
thou do it not," said the angel, " for I am thy fellow-
servant," " Are they not all ministering spirits sent
forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salva-
tion ?" Thus, whether they descend on our world to
open the bars of a prison, or to roll back the gates of
the sea, to predict the birth of a Samson, or celebrate
the advent of a Saviour, to blow the coal that dresses
Elijah's meal, or kindle the fire that lays Sodom in
ashes, to sing " peace " over the rude cradle of a new-
born babe, or sound the trump that rends the tomb
and wakes the dead, they do nothing for themselves.
Not ashamed of their service, but glorying in it, they
respond to the call, Bless the Lord, ye his angels, tliat
excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearken-
ing unto the voice of his word. Bless ye the Lord, all
ye his hosts ; ye ministers of his that do his pleasure.

Now, whose pleasure does my text represent our
Lord as doing? For whom, in the work of creation,
does it represent him as acting? All things were cre-
ated not only by him, but for him. For him ! What
a depth of meaning, what a manifest divinity, in that
plain, little word ! " For him ! " You might pile one
lofty expression on another up to heaven, but you could
say nothing more of God. Nay, it is said of God, as
his own peculiar and divine prerogative, " The Lord
hath made all things /or himself.'^

Some have attempted to evade the argument for

THE END OF CREATION. 211

Christ's divinity, which is based on the fact of his hav-
ing created all thin'gs. They cannot deny the fact,
but they deny the inference. They object and allege
that, although Christ created all things, he did so not
by his own inherent power, but by such power as Eli-
jah received from God to restore the widow's son, or
Elisha to lay bare the bed of Jordan. But, apart from
other answers with which such objectors may be tri-
umphantly met, observe how my text cuts the ground
out below their feet. Did Elijah bring back the dead,
and his successor divide the flood for themselves?
Was it for their own glory, or for any other ends of
their own ? That will not be alleged. If not, then
there is no analogy whatever between their miraculous
and our Lord's creating works. .^^^^

If our Lord Jesus Christ was other and less than
God, then, in kindling yonder sun, in lighting up the
starry sky, he no more acts for himself than the domes-
tic does, who, appearing at my call, lights my lamp, or
stoops on the hearth-stone to kindle my fire. It is the
very nature of a creature to be a dependent, and hold
a servant's place. Nor, as I read my Bible, was any •
man ever more justly condemned to die than Jesus, if
he were but a man. In that case he did undoubtedly
lay himself open to the charge of blasphemy, since — as
the Jews truly averred, and he never denied, nor so
much as attempted to explain it away — he made him-
self the Son of God, " equal with God." No doubt
our Lord did that ; in such plain terms claiming divine
equality, as to justify the use by Paul of this bold lan-
guage, " He thought it not robbery to be equal with
God. And, as the rainbow looks the brighter the
blacker the cloud it spans, the majesty of his claim is
brought out by the meanness of the circumstances in

212 THE END OF CREATION.

which it was made. Deserted by the world, a man of
sorrows, and acquainted with grief, dependent on a few
humble followers for the most common necessaries of
life, within some hours of an ignominious end, his foot
already on the verge of the grave, he rises to the lofti-
ness of Godhead ; and, turning an eye that was to be
soon darkened in death on earth and heaven, he claims
a community of property with God. All things, lie
says, that the father hath are mine. To the " all mine
are thine," this dying man adds, " thine are mine." He
speaks to God. Thine, thy eternity, thy throne, thy
glory, thy crown, thy sceptre, all are mine. Great
words, pregnant with the strongest consolation and
most glorious truths ! For, if in the very nature of
.things all that is God's is Christ's, and according
to the terms of the New Covenant, all that is Christ's
is ours, these words draw everything that belongs to
God into the hands of the humblest believer ! What
a faith is that ! What comfort should it give you !
What courage should it impart to you ! What grati-
tude should it beget in you ! Rich amid poverty, full
in emptiness, and in weakness strong, with what bless-
ed peace may the believer lie in Christ's arms, saying
with David, I will fear none evil ; or with Paul, as he
addresses himself to work or war, I can do all things
through Christ which strengtheneth me.

II. My text teacheth us that the glory of God was
the original ourpose of creation ; " All things were
created — for him."

Sin has to some extent blighted the beauty of crea-
tion. Still, to borrow the words of the Psalmist, the
heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament
showeth his handy-work. Day unto day utteretli

THE END OF CREATIO^^ 218

speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.
There is no speech nor language where their voice is
not heard. Their line is gone out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world. Nor is it
distance that here lends enchantment to the view. On
the contrary, the more closely the works of God are
examined, the higher our admiration rises, and the less
we fear that true science will ever appear as the anta-
gonist, and not the ally of the faith. Whether we turn
the telescope on heavens, studded so full of stars as to
present the appearance of gold-dust scattered with
lavish hand on a dark purple ground, or turn the micro-
scope on such comparatively humble objects as a plant
of moss, a drop of ditch water, the scaly armor of a
beetle, a spider's eye, the down of a feather, or the dust .
on a butterfly's wing, such divine beauty, wisdom and
glory burst into view, that childhood's roving mind is
instantly arrested : the dullest arc moved to wonder,
the most grovelling souls take wing and rise up to God.
He rushes, indeed, into our souls by the open portal of
every sense. We see a divine glory in worms, and
unapproachable excellence in the Almighty's lowest
works. And in the grand roar of the storm, the ever-
lasting boom of ocean breakers, the sudden crash
and far-rolling peals of thunder, the soft murmuring
of gentle brooks, the gleesome melody of budding
woods, the thrilling music of the lark, as, like a part-
ing spirit, she spurns the earth, and wings her flight to
heaven, nature echoes the close of the angel's hymn,
The whole earth is full of his glory.

When the morning stars sang together, and all tlie
sons of God shouted for joy over our nev/-bcrn world,
that, Holy, holy, lioly, is the Lord of Hosts, the whole
earth is full of his glory, formed, perhaps, the burden

214 THE END OF CREATION.

of their song. And when Adam sat by his beautiful
bride, and the shaggy lion crouched like a dog at their
feet, and the beams of the setting sun threw a golden
splendor over their bower of eglantine and roses, and
the feathered tribes from all the groves of paradise
poured forth rich gushes of sweetest melody, perhaps,
ere they lay down to rest with their arms and hearts
entwined, they took it for their vesper hymn, singing
while God and delighted angels listened. Holy, holy,
holy, is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full of
his glory.

The harp of Eden, alas ! is broken. Unstrung and
mute, an exiled race have hung it on the willows, and
Ichabod stands written now in the furrows of man's
guilty forehead, and on the wreck of his ruined estate.
Some things remain unaffected by the blight of sin, as
God made them for himself; the flowers have lost
neither their bloom nor fragrance, the rose smells as
sweet as it did when bathed in the dews of paradise ;
and seas and seasons, obedient to their original im-
pulse, roll on as of old to their Maker's glory. But
from man, alas ! how has the glory departed ! Look
at his body when the light pf the eye is quenched, and
the countenance is changed, and the noble form lies
festering in corruption — mouldering into the dust of
death. Or, change, still more hideous, look at his
soul 1 The spirit of piety dead, the mind under a dark
eclipse, hatred to God rankling in that once loving
heart, it retains but some vestiges of its original grand-
eur, just enough, like the beautiful tracery and noble
arches of a ruined pile, to make us feel that glory once
was there, and now is gone. What glory docs God
get from many of us ? Like a son who is bringing liis
father's gray hairs to the grave, a daughter who, sunk

THE END OF CREATION. 215

into the lowest degradation, is the shame of her family,
we are a dishonor and a disgrace. In applying such
terms to sinners, I am not employing language too
strong. God uses still stronger terms. As if his were
the feelings of a father who wishes that he had been
childless, of a mother who esteems the barren happy, it
is written, " It repented the Lord that lie had made
man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart."
What a horrible thing is sin !

Yet God's object in creating man was not defeated ;
and in illustration of that, I remark —

III. That God will make even the wicked and their
sins redound to his glory.

A strange machine is this of providence ! How
slowly some wheels move, while others whirl round so
rapidly that the eye cannot catch the flying spokes :
some are turning in one direction, and others in the
very opposite. Here, sight to w^onder at. Virtue is
struggling with the temptations of poverty, and Piety
sits a mendicant, clothed in rags, and covered with a
mass of sores. There, again, we see the wicked in
great power, and spreading himself like a green bay
tree; and not seldom like the deadly upas, which is
said to poison the air around it, and kill all that comes
within its noxious shade. In the arrangements of this
world it often seems as if confusion reigned, and some-
times confusion worse confounded. Sin triumphs, and
in the success of the ungodly, who have no changes,
and no bands in their death, men and devils seem to
defeat the purposes of God.

Defeat the purposes of God I Impossi])le. As you
stood some stormy day upon a sea-cliff, and marked
the giant billow rise from the deep to rush on with

210 THE END OF CREATION.

foaming crest, and throw itself thundering on the
trembling shore, did you ever fancy that you could
stay its course, and hurl it back into the depths of
ocean ? Did you ever stand beneath the leaden, lower-
ing cloud, and mark the lightning's leap, as it shot and
flashed, dazzling, athwart the gloom, and think that
you could grasp the bolt and change its path ? Still
more foolish and vain his thought, who fancies that he
can arrest or turn aside the purposes of God, saying,
What is the Almighty that we should serve him ? Let
us break his bands in sunder, and cast away his cords
from us. Break his bands asunder ! How he that sit-
teth in the heavens shall laugh ! Poor, beguiled, be-
nighted sinner, do you suppose, that in the full swing
and unbridled license of your passions you are serving
yourself, are your own free master ? Be assured that
it is not otherwise with you than it was with Pilate,
and the chief priests, and the Jews, and Judas also.
Unconscious of the high hand that controlled their
movements, these enemies of God were gathered to-
gether to do that which, by the determinate counsel
and foreknowledge of God, was appointed to be done.
Do you, for instance, injure a godly man ? God is
using you to train up his child in the grace of patience.
Do you defraud him ? God is using you to detach his
heart from the world, and to loosen tlie roots that bind
his affections to the earth. Do you deceive him ? God
is using you to teacli him not to put his trust in princes,
nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help. Do
you wound his feelings ? You are a knife in God^s
hand to let the sap flow more freely in a bark-bound
tree, or to prune its branches that it may bring forth
more fruit. Messenger of Satan ! dost thou buffet an
apostle? God uses thee to keep him humble, and to

THE END OF CREATION. 217

teach him to wear his honors meekly. Oppressor of
the church! dost thou cast an apostle into prison?
God uses thee, thy dungeon, and thy chains, to show
how he will answer prayer, and bring his people even-
tually out of their sorest troubles, — saving, as he saved
Peter, at the very uttermost. King of Egypt ! with
thy guards around thee, flattered by thy supple cour-
tiers, backed by thy boastful magicians, with thy
haughty looks art thou thwarting God, and, in hard-
ening thy heart and refusing to let Israel go, promot-
ing and securing thine own ambitious, selfish, grasping
ends ? Fool ! what a mistake ! In very deed, said the
Lord by Moses, for this cause have I raised thee up,
for to shew in thee my power ; and that my name may
be declared throughout all the earth. Pharaoh's ob-
stinacy affords the occasion, of which God makes use,
to turn a great kingdom into a stage whereon to dis-
play the majesty of his power. What must have been
the surprise, what the rage, what the mortification of
that imperious tyrant, to find himself, after all that he
and his bleeding country had suffered, but a mere tool
in the hands of the Hebrew's God ! God took a reve-
nue of glory out of him, as he will sooner or later do
out of all his enemies.

No man liveth for himself. There is a sense in
which that is universally true. And the most bold
and God-hating sinners may rest assured that when
the complicated machine of providence has done its
work, and the secret purposes of God are fully com-
pleted, and things old and worn out are replaced by a
new heaven and a new earth, then it shall be seen how
the Lord hath made all things for himself : yea, even
the wicked for the day of evil. Oh that men would
turn now and seek his mercy — his gracious, much-
10

218 THE END OF CREATION.

needed, freely-offered, all-sufficient, soul-saving mercy.
Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the
way. Why, when God is willing to forgive and for-
get, why, when he has sent his Son to seek you, and
sends his Spirit to plead with you, why should you per
ish? Reject salvation, and you must perish. For,
though unbelievers and the wicked are after a fashion
serving God, it is as the rod which a kind father
reluctantly uses to chasten his son, and which, when
it has answered its purpose, he breaks in two, and casts
into the fire.

IV. Since Christ hath made all things for himself
his people are emphatically called to consecrate them-
selves, and their all, to his glory.

To this duty you are called, by the obligations of
both a natural and spiritual creation ; by your descent
from the first, and also from the second Adam. To
live, to watch, to work, to suffer, and to sacrifice botli
for Him who, loving us, spared not his o^n son, but
delivered him up for us all, and for Him also who, lov-
ing us, washed us from our sins in his own blood, is
our plain bounden duty ; let me rather say, for duty is
a cold word, should be our daily and supreme delight.
I do not say that it is plain sailing to heaven. I do
not say but that the duty we owe to Christ may and
shall expose us to what the world accounts and what
flesh and blood feel, to be pain ? Be it so I What pains
Jesus endured, what sacrifices he submitted to for us !

Besides, how should it make us take suffering joy-
fully to think that it is those who are crucified with
him on earth that shall be crowned with him in heaven.
None else. They win in this game that lose. They
live in this warfare tliat die. If we be dead with

THE END OF CREATIO^^ 219

him, we shall also live with him ; if we suffer, we shall
also reign with him. He that loseth his life shall find it.

Surely, if there be such things as true, tender, sa-
cred, eternal obligations, they bind those who, to speak
the plain truth, but for Christ had been suffering hell's
intolerable torment, had never even hoped to set foot
in heaven. What owest thou thy Lord ? You cannot
tell that. Therefore be your money millions or mites,
be your talents ten or two, be your hearts young and
green, or seared and withered, lay them at a Saviour's
feet. Let his glory be your glorious aim ! Raised far
above the common objects and base pursuits of the
world, this is an end worth living for. A life such as
that, elevating and ennobling the humblest lot, shall
command the regards, and fix on a man the gaze of
angels. Lofty ends give dignity to the lowest offices.
It is, for instance, an honest, but you would not call it
an honorable occupation, to pull an oar ; yet if that
oar dips in a yeasty sea to impel the life-boat over
mountain waves and through roaring breakers, he who
has stripped for the venture, and, breaking away from
weeping wife and praying mother and clinging child-
ren, has bravely thrown himself into the boat to pull
for yonder wreck, and pluck his drowning brothers
from the jaws of death, presents, as from time to time
we catch a glimpse of him on the crest of the foaming
billow, a spectacle of grandeur which would withdraw
our eyes from the presence even of a queen, surrounded
with all the blaze and glittering pomp of royalty.

Take another illustration, drawn from yet humbler
life. Some years ago, on a winter morning, two child-
ren were found frozen to death. They were sisters.
The elder child had the younger seated in her lap,
closely folded within her lifeless arms. She had

220 THE END OF CREATIOX.

stripped her own thinly-clad form to protect its feebler
life, and, to warm the icy fingers, had tenderly placed
its little hands in her own bosom ; and pitying men
and weeping women did stand and gaze on the two
dead creatures, as, with glassy eyes and stiffened forms,
they reclined upon the snow wreath — the days of their
wandering and mourning ended, and heaven's own
pure snow no purer than that true sister's love. They
were orphans ; houseless, homeless beggars. But not
on that account, had I been there to gaze on that
touching group, would I have shed one tear the less,
or felt the less deeply, that it was a display of true
love, and of human nature in its least fallen aspect,
which deserved to be embalmed in poetry, and sculp-
tured in costliest marble.

Yes ; and however humble the Christian's walk, or
mean his occupation, it matters not. He who lives for
the glory of God, has an end in view which lends dig-
nity to the man and to his life. Bring common iron into
proper contact with the magnet, it will borrow the
strange attractive virtue, and itself become magnetic.
The merest crystal fragment, that lias been flung out
into the field and trampled on the ground, shines like
a diamond when sunbeams stoop to kiss it. And who
has not seen the dullest rain-cloud, when it turned its
weeping face to the sun, change into glory, and, in the
bow that spans it, present to the eyes of age and in-
fancy, alike of the philosopher who studies, and of the
simple joyous child who runs to catch it, the most bril-
liant and beautiful phenomenon in nature? Thus,
from what they look at and come in contact witli,
common things acquire uncommon glory.

Live, then, " looking unto Jesus," live for nothing
less and nothing lower than God's glory ; and these

THE E^^l) OF CREATIOX. 221

ends will lend grandeur to your life, and shed a holy,
heavenly lustre on your station, however humble it be.
Yes. A man of piety may be lodged in the rudest
cottage, and his occupation may be only to sweep a
street, yet let him so sweep a street, that, through the
honest and diligent doing of his duty, God is glorified,
and men are led to speak and think better of religion,
and he forms a link between earth and heaven. He
associates himself with holy angels. And, though at a
humble distance, treads in the footsteps of that blessed
Saviour, who, uniting divinity to humanity, as our
Maker made all things for himself, and, as our brother
man, whether he ate or drank or whatsoever he did,
did all to the glory of God ; and doing ^o, left us an
example that we should follow his steps. Go and do
likewise. Glorify God, and you shall enjoy him. La-
bor on earth, and you shall rest in heaven, ('hrist
judges them to be the men of worth who are tfie men
of work. Be thy life then devoted to his service.
Now for the work, hereafter for the wages ; earth for
the cross, heaven for the crown. Go thy way, assured
that there is not a prayer you offer, nor a word you
speak, nor a foot you walk, nor a tear you shed, nor a
hand you hold out to the perishing, nor a warning you
give to the careless, nor a wretched child you pluck
from the streets, nor a visit paid to the widow or fath-
erless, nor a loaf of bread you lay on a poor man's
table, that there is nothing you do for the love of God
and man, but is faithfully registered in the clironicles
of the kingdom, and shall be publicly read that day
when Jesus, calling you up perhaps from a post as
mean as Mordecai's, shall crown your brows before an
assembled world, saying, Thus it shall be done to the
man whom the king delighteth to honor.

aiirl^t In '§,xtivi&entt.

By him all things consist. — Colossians i. 17.

God's -work of providence is " his most holy, wise,
and powerful preserving and governing of all his crea-
tures and all their actions.'' It has no Sabbath. No
night suspends it, and from its labors God never rests.
If, for the sake of illustration, I may compare small
things with great, it is like the motion of the heart.
Beating our march to the grave, since the day we
began to live, the heart has never ceased to beat.
Our limbs grow weary ; not it. We sleep ; it never
sleeps. Needing no period of repose to recruit its
strength, by night and day it throbs in every pulse ;
and, constantly supplying nourishment to the meanest
as well as to the noblest organs of our frame, with mea-
sured, steady, untired stroke, it drives the blood along
the bounding arteries, without any exercise of will on
our part, and even when the consciousness of our own
existence is lost in dreamless slumbers.

If philosophy is to be believed, our world is but an
outlying corner of creation ; bearing, perhaps, as small
a proportion to the great universe, as a single grain
bears to all the sands of the sea-shore, or one small
quivering leaf to the foliage of a boundless forest.
Yet, even within this earth's narrow limits, how vast
the work of Providence ! How soon is the mind lost in
contemplating it I How great that Being whose hand

(222)

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 223

paints every flower, and shapes every leaf ; who forma
every bud on every tree, and every infant in the dark-
ness of the womb ; who feeds each crawling worm
with a parent's care, and watches like a mother over
the insect that sleeps away the night in the bosom of
a flower ; who throws open the golden gates of day,
and draws around a sleeping world the dusky curtains
of the night ; who measures out the drops of every
shower, the whirling snow-flakes, and the sands of
man's eventful life ; who determines alike the fall of
a sparrow and the fate of a kingdom : and so over-
rules the tide of liuman fortunes, that whatever befall
him, come joy or sorrow, the believer says. It is the
Lord : let him do what seemeth him good.

In ascribing this great work to Jesus Christ, my
text calls you to render him divine honors. In the
hands that were once nailed to the cross, it places the
sceptre of universal empire ; and on those blessed
arms that, once thrown around a mother's neck, now
tenderly enfold every child of God, it hangs the weight
of worlds. Great is the mystery of godliness I Yet
so it is, plainly written in the words, By him all things
consist. By him the angels keep their holiness, and
the stars their orbits ; the tides roll along the deep,
and the seasons through the year ; kings reign, and
princes decree justice ; the church of God is held
together, riding out at anchor the rudest storms ; and
by him, until the last of his elect are plucked from the
wreck, and his purposes of mercy are all accomplished,
this guilty world is kept from sinking under a growing
load of sins.

" By him all things consist." Wonderful words,
as spoken of one who, some eighteen centuries ago,
was a houseless wanderer, a pensioner on woman's

22i CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

charity, and not seldom without a place where to lay his
head I Yet how clearly do these words attest his dig- '
nity and divinity ? More could not be said of God ;
and Paul will not say less of Christ. Nor, great and
glorious as they are, do they stand alone. Certainly
not. In language as lofty, and ascribing to Jesus
honors no less divine, the apostle thus writes to the
Hebrews, " God, who at sundry times, and in divers
manners, spake in time past unto the fathers by the
prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by
his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things,
by whom also he made the worlds ; who being the
brightness of his glory, and the express image of his
person, and upholding all things by the ivord of his
power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat
down on the right hand of the Majesty on high.'
How wonderful ! He left a grave to ascend the
throne ; he exchanged the side of a dying thief for
the right hand of God ; he dropped a reed to assume
the sceptre of earth and heaven ; he put off a wreath
of thorns to put on a sovereign's crown ; and, in that
work of providence to which I would now turn your
attention, you behold Him, who died to save the chief
of sinners, made " Head over all things to the church."

I. His providence appears in those extraordinary
events which lead his people, and often compel his
enemies, to acknowledge the hand of God.

I do not speak of miraculous events ; — as when the
sea opened her gates to the flying Israelites, and man's
extremity proved God's opportunity ; as when the
ravens, deserting their nests and young to cater for
the prophet, hunted the fields to supply his table ; as
when hungry lions, like gentle lambs, crouched at

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 225

Daniel's feet ; as when the sun set at noonday over
the red cross of Calvary, or shone at midnight on the
hills of Gideon. It is to another kind of events that
I refer ; and of these —

1. Job's history furnishes a notable example. Satan
has gone forth from the presence of the Lord, armed
with this commission, Behold, all that he hath is in
thy power ; only upon himself put not forth thine
hand. The devil can never go a step further against
the saints than God chooses to give him chain. That
is great comfort. Yet how ruthlessly, how pitilessly,
how malignantly the Enemy of man used his power on
this occasion, you know. The gallant ship that, with
songs below, and gay dances on her deck, was sailing
on a summer day over a glassy sea, in her sky no por-
tentous clouds, in her snowy sheets but wind enough
to waft her home, and of which, by nightfall, the only
vestiges are some broken timbers afloat in the foam
that the wild waves are grinding on the horrid reef,
presents a striking image of the change that one short,
eventful day brought on the house and fortunes of this
man of God. One following hard upon another, like
successive shocks of an earthquake, the messengers of
disaster come. Ruin, ruin, is on their lips, as, pale
with terror, panting for breath, they arrive with their
tidings, and that doleful echo, that ever-recurring close
of the woful tale, " I only am escaped alone to tell
thee," Cattle, flocks, camels gone, all his property
sunk. Job is a beggared man. Yet his children are
safe ; and with seven gallant sons and three fair
daughters, he still is rich. These spared, let all else
perish. But ah ! the next wave, toweriDg, cresting
high over head, falls on his laboring bark, and, sweep-
10*

226 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

ing the deck clean, leaves none standing there but
himself and a frantic mother ; nor is theirs the conso-
lation of the mother who, reaching the shore with her
living babe, presses it to her bosom, and holds herself
compensated for all other losses. They are dead, cries
the last messenger ; they are dead, and I only am
escaped alone to tell thee. Dead ? We almost expect
to see himself fall dead ; stunned, killed by this crown-
ing, this overwhelming stroke. But no. Greatest of
heroes, spectacle for angels to admire, pattern for be-
lievers to imitate in the hour of their most adverse
fortunes, he arose and worshipped — arose as the ball
which rebounds the higher the harder it is struck ; as
the eagle which reaches her loftiest flight not in serene,
but in tempestuous skies. Owning the Providence in
whose hand Sabean and Chaldean, fiery thunderbolt
and roaring whirlwind, were only instruments, Job
bows before the throne of God, and says, with a pa-
tience more uncommon even than his trials, Naked
came I out of my mother's womb, and naked sliall I
return thither : the Lord gave, and the Lord hath
taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.

2. The history of God's church is filled with remark-
able illustrations of marvelous, though not miraculous
providences. " The wind bloweth where it listeth,"
said our Lord ; and when — -now sleeping, now gently
breathing, now sighing as in sorrow, now shrieking as
in pain, now roaring in mad-like fits of rage, and now
howling round the house— it shakes every door and
window to get in, the wind seems as uncontrolled and
uncontrollable a power as any in nature. But when,
some three hundred years ago, it rose in its resistless
might, and swept down in hurricane gusts from heaveu

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 227

to scatter the hopes of Rome and the pride of Spain,
it was surely, to use the words of scripture, " stormy
wind fulfilling his word." I believe that. In that
crisis of the church's fate, Popery and secular despot-
ism, ecclesiastical and political tyranny, united their
forces, as they now threaten to do again. Their object
was to crush the liberties of mankind, and to quench
the light of the Reformation in the life-blood of its
professors. Never had winds wafted, never, since keel
first ploughed them, had the waves borne such a fleet
as, armed for that purpose and confident of victory,
came ruffling down in the pride of its power on the
coasts of England. The hearts of many trembled ;
and some were but little comforted by the noble atti-
tude in which England rose, headed by her maiden
Queen, to meet the danger in the name of God. Who
could not fight could pray. Earnest supplications
were therefore made continually, nor made in vain.
And so, when the cannon's thunder pealed along the
deep, and gun to gun, yard-arm to yard-arm, they
fought the Spaniard in sight of their homes. One min-
gled in that protracted battle, as unlooked for by the
foe as was the fourth person who walked the fiery fur-
nace witli the three Hebrew children in the brave days
of old.

God descended into the fight. He did fly upon the
wings of the wind, and with the black tempest swept
the»enemy to destruction. Storm rose and roared upon
the back of storm, scattering that boastful navy. Un-
til, where it had ridden in its pride, nothing was seen
but the crests of the angry sea ; nothing heard but
thundering breakers, and the scream of the wild sea-
mew. And while the hurricane was pursuing them
9,lopg our island, and strewing these uorthern shores

228 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

with the corpses and the wreck of that proud Armada,
the people of England repaired to the house of God
to acknowledge his providence in this memorable de-
liverance, and sing of the stormy wind fulfilling his
word.

3. Again, the finger of God has been often marvel-
ously revealed in the detection and punishment of
crime. Men have stood astonished, and have been
constrained to say — There was a providence in that.
By some remarkable and unlooked-for circumstance,
God himself has cleared away every doubt ; and said,
as it were, with his finger pointed at the confounded,
trembling, wretch. Thou, thou art the man ! One night,
for instance, some years ago, a person in this city
awoke to find that his house had been plundered. The
alarm was raised, nor was it long ere the officers of
justice found a clue. The thief, wounding his hand as
he escaped by the window, had left a red witness be-
hind him. The watchman flashed his lantern on the
spot. Drop by drop, blood stained the pavement.
They tracked it on, and on, and ever on, till their
silent guide conducted them along an open passage,
and up a flight of steps — stopping at the door of a
house. They broke in ; and there they found the
bleeding hand, the booty, and the pale, ghastly crim-
inal. Now, a shower of rain would have washed
away the stain ; a fall of snow would liave concealed
it ; the foot of some wretched street-walker, some
midnight reveller, would have effaced it ; but no, the
crime was one of peculiar atrocity, and tliere God
kept the damning spot. And, unless they be forgiven,
covered by the righteousness, washed away in the blood
of Jesus, so shall your sins find you out, Wasli them

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 229

away in Calvary^s fountain, or they wait to meet you
at the bar of judgment. The step of divine justice
may be slow, but it is sure, and I implore sinners to
flee from the exposures and the wrath to come : for,
what saith the scriptures, Whatsoever ye have spoken
in darkness shall be heard in the light ; and that which
ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed
upon the house tops, — God shall bring every work into
judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good
or whether it be evil.

Who should not own in such remarkable events the
hand of providence ? That man incurred double guilt,
who, when passing dryshod through the sea between
two crystal walls, thought no more of God than you or
I, perhaps, have done, when, on a bright summer day,
beneath the flickering shade of overhanging trees, and
on a carpet of heath and wild flowers, we were threading
some mountain gorge. He too, incurred double guilt,
who, having risen with the dawn, and left his tent, ere
the sun had shot one slanting ray across the desert
sands, to gather food fallen fresh from dewy skies,
thought no more of God than yonder merry band, that,
with talk and songs and laughter, sweep down the
golden corn, or, when sheaves are stacked and fields
are cleared, with gleesome dances keep harvest-home.
" Go, see now this cursed woman, and bury her, for
she is a king's daughter," were Jehu's orders ; and
doubly guilty were his messengers if, as they drove off
the dogs that were crunching Jezebel's skull, and saw
the curse of an avenging prophet, they thought no
more of God's righteous judgments, than does the
rude, brutal mob which executions gather from low
lanes and alleys around a gallows-tree.

It is good to see God's hand in every extraordinary

230 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

event, but it is better to see his providence in every
thing, saying with David, I have set the Lord 'always
before me. How happy is such a frame of mind ! I
cherish the memory of one over whose chequered life
it shed a perpetual sunshine. A widow with a helpless
family, she had literally left father and mother, and
house and lands, for Jesus' sake, and had had her full
share of trials. Yet nothing came wrong to her ; nor
did leaden cares ever sit loug or press lieavy on her
saintly breast — hers, a bearing that often reminded
me of the beautiful words of Luther, when, in an hour
of alarm and anxious councils, he pointed his compan-
ion to a little bird, that, perched on a bending branch,
was pouring forth a gush of melody in the ear of evening,
and said, Happy fellow ! he leaves God to think for
him. Do that ; leave God to think for you, and to
care for you. Let clear-eyed Faith behold Christ on
his throne, with the strong hand of a God, and the
sympathies of a man guiding in heaven the helm of
your fortunes, and you may go to sleep in the rudest
storm. What storm should hinder him whose head is
pillowed on Jesus' bosom, and who feels liimself en-
folded in the arms of providence, from fulfilling this
high, this happy command, Be careful for nothing ;
but in everything by prayer and supplication, with
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto
God, And the peace of God, which passeth all un-
derstanding, shall keep your hearts and minds tlirough
Christ Jesus. Child of God! take your rest. He
who keeps watch by you, never sleeps.

II. God in Christ presides over ordinary as well as
extraordinary events.

By him all things consist. Every object \n nature

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 231

is impressed with his footprints, and each new day
repeats the wonders of creation. Yes ; there is not
a morning we open our eyes, but they meet a scene
as wonderful as that which fixed the gaze of Adam
when he awoke into existence. Nor is there an object,
be it pebble or pearl, weed or rose, the flower-span-
gled sward beneath, or the star-spangled sky above,
a worm or an angel, a drop of water or a boundless
ocean, in which intelligence may not discern, and piety
may not adore, the providence of Him who assumed
our nature that he might save our souls. If God is
not in all the thoughts of the wicked, he is in every-
thing else. And since the comfort of his people rests
so much on the conviction that the Lord r eigne th, that
his hand rules every event, that a wise, and most kind,
as well as holy Providence presides over our daily
fortunes and all things besides, let me proceed, by
some familiar examples, to illustrate that noble truth.

1. Let me show you Providence in a snow-drop— ^a
flower we all know and love, and hail as the fair har-
binger of spring. And in this I follow the example
of him who extracted from flowers truths more beauti-
ful than their colors, more precious than their most
fragrant odors. All the plants that clothe and adorn
the earth with such varied beauty, and combining, as is
God's way, utility with beauty, supply food to the ani-
mal creation, depend for their continued existence on
their flowers turning into fruit. Now, the fructifica-
tion of the snow-drop depends, if I may say so, on
the modesty, in it as elsewhere the usual associate of
purity, with which, shrinking from its own boldness, it
hangs its beautiful head. Let it lift its head up with
the pride of a lily, and this herald of spring perishes

232 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

from the face of the earth, like the race of a childless
man. But God has provided against such an event.
Wonderful, and instructive as teaching us how the
greatest and smallest things in providence have often
mutual and important connections, this vast globe, and
that little flower, in regard to their weight, have been
calculated the one so to suit the other, that its bells
are and must be pendent. Drawn downwards by the
force of gravity, they assume a position without which
they had produced no fruit, yet one which they had
not assumed, had our planet been no larger than Mars
or Mercury. See, then, how God takes care of a hum-
ble flower ! how much more of you and your families^
0 ye of little faith !

2. Let me take an example from a circumstance
which, at first sight, appears to shake rather than to
confirm our confidence in a presiding Providence.
That plants may produce fruit in our climate, their
flowers, warmly wrapped within the folds of the bud,
must sleep the winter through — waiting for the genial
breath of spring, and the embraces of a summer sun.
Well ; we are meditating on the care which God takes
of many tender plants, by either wrapping them in a
warm mantle of snow, or causing them to §eek shelter
beneath the surface, when our meditations are suddenly
arrested, and our trust in God's providence is at first
sight perhaps shaken, by a plant which spreads out its
blossoms, like unrequited love, to the cold beams of
the winter day. The frost has bound the soil, the ice
has chained the streams, and the hoary rime, like a
work of magic, has turned every tree to silver, and
there is not heat enough in the keen cutting air for
that unhappy flower to produce fruit. It is with it as

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 238

with our souls when God withdraws the joys of salva-
tion and the influences of his Holy Spirit. There is
something wrong here ? No. The Maker of all has
made no mistake. Nor may Deist, Atheist, or sneer-
ing scoffer put his foot on that flower, and, to crush
with its frail form our faith in providence, ask, Where
is now thy God ? Ask that plant its history ! It
speaks with a foreign accent ; the truth comes out
that God never made it to dwell here ; an exile, it has
been torn from its native home, and still clings, like
other exiles, to the habits and memories of its father-
land. Belonging to a region where the day is longest
when ours is shortest, where they pant under summer
heat when we are shivering in winter cold, the flowers
that it spreads on our snowy ground but show how
correctly God had wound it up to blow in its proper
habitat at the proper season, and how clearly his prov-
idence may be seen even in the fading blossoms of a
flower. I say again, if God takes sucli care of plants,
how may you trust yourselves and your families to
him ? What may you not trust to him, who spared
nor pains, nor pity, nor care, nor kindness, nor even
his beloved Son, but gave him up to death, that you
might not perish, but live ?

3. Let me select an illustration from the animal
kingdom. Over the honeycomb, in which a vulgar
taste, in common with the bear, finds only the means
to gratify its appetite, the philosopher may bend with
admiration and amaze. He can have little reflection
who has not marked the beauty and delicacy of those
cells, which, though built in the darkness of the hive,
and the work of a humble insect, man, with his reason
and the aids of art, attempts in vain to imitate. Yei

234 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

there is here something more wonderful than beauty
Examine them closely. See how each has the same
number of sides with its fellow, and is its exact coun-
terpart. In that a child could discern plain evidence
of design ; but there is a depth of wisdom there which
only science can fathom. Repair to the study of a
Newton, of one who is tracking that wandering comet
on its fiery path into the far realms of space, or weigh-
ing, not the Alps or Andes, but worlds in the scales of
science, and ask him — for no man else can solve the
question, simple as it seems — to find out for you the
form of the vessel Avhich combines with the greatest
strength the largest capacity? Having wrought out
this problem by a long series of abstruse calculations,
he presents the result. How wonderful ! You find
such a vessel in the cell of a bee-hive !

I dare to say that he is a fool who ventures, in the
face of such a fact, to deny a providence, or to assert
that there is no God. Why, at a period in man's his-
tory when he was little better tlian a naked savage,
when he was robbing the beast of his skin for clothing,
and of his rocky den for a home, when he had no tools
but such as he could fashion from a stone, nor vessels
but of the rudest form and the coarsest clay, this hum-
ble insect was building the most beautiful fabrics from
the most delicate materials, with the skill of an accom-
plished architect, and according to tlie laws of a higli
philosophy. What a proof of an over-ruling provi-
dence ? and that He, who teaches birds as well as
angels to sing, guides the movements of the meanest
creatures — presiding in a hive as well as in heaven !
Why, then, should God's people ever despond ? What
can be too hard for them ? too heavy for you to bear,
too difficult for you to do ! He is with you, with

CHRIST IN PROVIDEXCE. 235

whom all things are possible. And if, by the most
feeble creatures, he achieves works of such skill and
beauty, how may you take heart to believe, that by the
aids of his holy Spirit, and the help of the grace prom-
ised to earnest prayer, you shall work out even your
salvation with fear and trembling ; God working in
you both to will and to do of his good pleasure ?

4. Let me show a divine providence in the most
common circumstances of life. Most people are ready
to acknowledge the hand of God in such events as
disease and death, births and burials, any remarkable
escape from danger, some either very favorable or un-
favorable turn in their fortunes. Who has not noted
down certain occurrences in his history as plainly in-
dicating a providence? Yet the largest number of
men have their type in the son rather than the father,
of whom this circumstance is told. They had parted
in the morning not to meet again till nightfall. On
meeting, the son said tliat he had been most wonder-
fully preserved ; for his horse had thrown him, and
but for God's good guardian hand, he liad certainly
been killed. Whereupon his father replied that he
had met with a yet more remarkable providence, had
still more cause to praise God ; for, he added, address-
ing the other, whose curiosity was now wound up to
the highest pitch in expectation of some strange and
stirring story — I have travelled the livelong day, pre.
served from all alarm or accident v/liatever. Happy
the man who thus sets the Lord always before him !

Now, for an example of providence in the most com-
mon things, let me select sleep — our nightly rest. " He
giveth his beloved sleep," "Thou holdest mine eyes
waking," so says the Bible ; and events occasionally

236 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

place that truth very vividly before us. Do you re-
member a terrible shipwreck which occurred not many
years ago on our west coast, and how those who were
saved out of a large number that perished, owed their
life to one wakeful man ? He was no watchman of
the coast-guard, no pilot on the look-out for homeward-
bound ships, but only an old, infirm seaman, who had
gone to bed with the rest of the world. He had
courted sleep that night ; but, for no reason that he
could fancy, his eyes were kept w^aking. Weary of
turning and tossing on a sleepless bed, he rose and
walked the floor. With an old sailor's love of tlie
sea, he drew aside the curtain of his cottage window
to gaze out on the heaving deep. And while the sight
of it was waking up the memory of former years, his
eye, ere a landsman could have descried it, caught an
object coming slioreward through the gloom. Horror
seizes him. It is an ill-fated ship rushing, like a reck-
less soul bent on destruction, througli the fog on that
iron coast, right into the jaAvs of death. Many were
hurried that night into a watery grave. Yet, but for
the circumstance that sleep had fled the old man's
couch, but for the alarm he gave, but for the boats
that were launched to the rescue, many more had been
drowned, and some, perhaps, damned, who, converted
to God, are now living to his glory on earth, or, be-
yond the reach of all storms, safely housed in lieaven.
God held his eyes waking ; he liad work for that an-
cient mariner to do.

But, to take an example on a scale involving world-
wide interests, I can show that not the life of individ-
uals only, but the existence of a nation, and, since the
Saviour sprang from that nation, the salvation of the
world, once turned on a sleepless night. Strange, yet

CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE. 237

true! The king of Persia —like many other king?, a
mere puppet in the hands of unprincipled ministers —
has signed a decree to exterminate the whole Jewish
race. Conscience, uneasy for the deed, does not keep
him awake when he retires to rest in Shushan's palace.
Her hand has planted no thorns in the royal couch,
yet he cannot sleep ; nor is there balmy virtue in si-
lence, or wine, or music, to make his weary eyelids
drop. It is strange that he cannot sleep ; and yet
more strange his choice of something to relieve the
tediousness of night. He calls for the chronicles of
his kingdom. Dry reading, one would think ; yet you
know the issue, and how the page turning up that re-
lated the story of Mordecai's forgotten service, these
wakeful hours led on to the honor of the Jew, the
hanging of Haman, and the preservation of the race
from which our Saviour descended. Was there no
providence in that? Was it accident or blind chance
which kept slumbers that night from the downy pil-
low? Accident, that instead of music, the revel, the
dance, the soft arms of pleasure, led a voluptuary to
seek entertainment in the musty records of his king-
dom ? Accident, that opened the book where it re-
corded the story of Hebrew loyalty ? No. 1 believe
that God's own finger turned these leaves, and held
the king's eyes waking. He liad work for that king
to do.

These events draw aside the veil. We see all the
reins that guide and govern the world gathered into
the hands of God. We see Jesus standing by the
helm of affairs ; that there is no such thing as chance ;
that his care of his people extends to the most com-
mon, minute, and apparently trivial matters ; how
even wakino- hours, or dreamless slumbers are links in

238 CHRIST IN PROVIDENCE.

the golden cliain of providence. A happy belief, too
precious to be parted with ! Let the thought that
Jesus watches over your fortunes, and guards your
welfare, and guides your way, banish every care. I
do not say that you will never be disappointed, but
certainly you ought never to be discontented. Many
things in your circumstances may occasion anxious
thought, but nothing should occasion or can excuse
repining. Child of God I he has numbered the hairs
of thy head, as well as the stars of heaven. Charge
of angels ! they shall keep thee in all thy ways. They
shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy
foot against a stone.

By him all things consist ; and on raising our eyes
to Jesus exalted, crowned, enthroned, with the govern-
ment on his shoulder, two thoughts suggest themselves.
First, our mind reverts, by way of contrast, to Jerusa-
lem, to Calvary, to the doleful day when he sank
beneath the weight, and expired amid the agonies of
his cross. If he, who now bears the weight of worlds,
once staggered under the burden of our sins, oh ! what
an incalculable, mysterious load of guilt must tliere be
in sin ! It bent the back that bears with ease the Ijur-
den of ten thousand worlds. That load you cannot
bear ; and if you would not have it sink your souls
into the deepest hell, flee to Calvary, leave it at tlie
Cross. Cast sins and sorrow, cast botli on him who
invites the burden, saying. Come unto me, all ye that
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Again, beholding Christ thus exalted to the right hand
of God, we think of the security of his people. They
are to watch and pray, and rejoice with trembling.
Yet they cannot sink whom he holds up, nor lose the
battle on whose side he lights. Believer, what art

CHRIST IX PROVIDENCE. 239

thou doing, going groaning through the world beneath
a load of fears and cares ? What should discourage
thee ? What should disturb thy peace ? AVhat ruffle
the calm spirit of a man who knows that the hands
once nailed for him to the tree now hold the helm of
his fortunes ; and that the blessed Saviour, who by
love's golden sceptre reigns within his heart, holds
sovereign sway over earth and heaven ; and by both
bitter and sweet providences, by coffins and cradles,
by disappointments and joys, by losses and gains, shall
make all things work together for good to them that
love God, to them who are the called according to his
purpose.

He is the head of the body, the Church.— Colossians L 18.

At a celebrated battle there was one position from
which the enemy, after suffering defeat in every other
part of the field, kept up an unabated fire. There, a
huge twenty-four pounder vomited forth galling and
continuous discharges ; nor could our artillery, nor
musketry, nor riflemen, silence it. " That gun," said
the commanding officer, addressing the men of two
regiments in a few brief, brave words, " must be taken
by the bayonet. I must have it ;" adding, as he placed
himself at their head, " No firing, and recollect that I
am with you." There needed no more. They ad-
vanced, the grape from the battery crashing through
their ranks. They fired four rolling volleys before
they charged ; but when they did charge, the onset
was irresistible.

The importance of a military position may be always
estimated by the determination with which it is on the
one hand assailed, and on the other hand defended. By
this test I have been able to discover the key of an old
battle-field. Who fouglit there, and in what cause they
fell, are matters about which history is altogether silent ;
and even the lingering traditions of tlie glen are dim
and vague, like objects seen througli its gray creeping
mists. Yet the hoary cairns that are scattered on

(240)

THE HEAD. 241

rolling moor and rugged hill-sides tell how war once
raged over that abode of peace ; and how, where the
moorcock crows to the morning, and the shy plover
rings out her wail, and lambs chase each other, or
playfully engage in mimic fight around these old gray
stones, men once had trampled down the heather, stain-
ing it of a deeper crimson with their blood. And
there, where the rude monuments of the dead stand
crowded together for want of room, we know that the
opposing tides of battle with direst shock, and human
passions spent their wildest fury. These marks of
hardest fighting and greatest carnage still point out
the key of the position — the most important post that
they had to hold or Avin in that old field of battle.

According to this rule, w^e should conchide tliat the
church of Christ has regarded the headsliip of her
Lord as in some respects the very key of her position.
She has maintained it as not the least important of the
doctrines which she has been charged to liold against
all men — liolding them to the death. For tlic sake of
this doctrine, for Christ's crown, for his sole right to
rule his own house, and to regulate, without Ca3sar's
interference, the affairs of his church, lier largest, cost-
liest, and most painful sacrifices have been made. And
as if there was an instinct of grace corresponding to
that remarkable instinct of nature which teaches even
an infant, in the act of falling, to throw out its hands
and arms, and save the head at the expense of its
members, with a fidelity that has done her lionor, tlie
church has sacrificed her members, and lavishly slied
her blood in support of Christ's headship. For this
cause, counting all things but loss, many have suffered
the spoiling of their goods ; many have gone into ban-
ishment and exile ; many have ascended tlic .scaffold
11

242 THE HEAD.

to lay down their heads on the block, or, embracing
the stake with a lover's ardor, have gone to heaven in
a chariot of fire, to wear the crown of martyrdom,
and learn how w^ell Christ keeps the promise. Them
that honor me I will honor.

The apostles Peter and John were the first publicly
to maintain this doctrine. At their parting, our Lord
commanded Ids disciples to go into all the world, and
preach the gospel to every creature ; and when the
Jewish rulers, attempting to infringe on Christian
liberty, commanded them not to speak at all, nor teach
in the name of Jesus, how prompt and how decisive
was their reply ! It leaves Christian men in corres-
ponding circumstances in no doubt as to the path of
duty, whether they have courage to take it or not.
Hear their memorable words : " Whether it be right
in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than
unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the
things which we have seen and heard." Nor less clear
and decisive this reply of Peter's, on being charged a
few days afterwards with having preached contrary to
the injunctions of the civil magistrate, " We ought to
obey God rather than men." Thus plainly did these
men assert and boldly maintain the doctrine tliat Christ
is head of his body, the church. They would have
held it treason to own any other authority. So ought
we.

It becomes not man to be proud of anything. We
have defects enough to clothe us with humility. And
a sense of many sins and many shortcomings will teach
us, for any grace or honor we may possess, to asciibe
glory to him who maketh one to differ from another,
and out of the mouth of babes ordainetli strength.
Yet, as patriots, we may be permitted to dwell with

THE HEAD. 243

gratification and gratitude on the fact, that since the
day when the apostles so boldly asserted Christ's sole
right to reign in his church, and to regulate all mat-
ters of doctrine and discipline, government and duty
therein, few countries have been more honored to tes-
tify and to suffer for that truth than has our ow^n. I
do not refer only to recent events, nor to the long and
bloody struggles of the seventeenth century, nor to the
part she played at the glorious Reformation. Her
practical testimony to this doctrine dates from a much
earlier period. Rude in arts and rough in manners as
our forefathers might be, they were the last of the na-
tions to bow the neck to the yoke of Popery. Popish,
like Pagan Rome, found our countrymen hard to con-
quer. And thus, when the liglits of lona were extin-
guished, and nothing was left of a faith comparatively
pure but the lonely cells and ruined sanctuaries of Cul-
dce worship, the dreary period of Po])is]i darkness was
shorter here tlian elsewhere — just as is the duration of
night on tliose rugged storm-beaten heights, whicli
catch the morning sun before it has risen on the val-
leys, and stand up glowing in golden liglit when the
shades of evening have w^rapped these in deepening
dusky gloom.

And after the era of the Reformation, who docs not
know, Avho has not read, now with weeping eyes, and
now with burning indignation, what our good fore-
fathers suffered for Christ's crown ? It was dearer to
them than their liberties or lives. Handed down, like
an heirloom, from martyred sire to son, t1iis cause is
interwoven with our nation's history, and runs through
it like a silver thread. It runs, I may say, in our very
blood. We have imbibed it Avith our mother's milk.
Far away from the smoke and din of cities, it is asso-

2-i:-i Till-: HEAD.

ciated with many a wild weeping glen, the dark moss
hag, and those misty mountains where our fathers
were hunted down like partridges. There the moss-gray
stone which still bears the rude outlines of a Bible
and a sword, is regarded with veneration by a pious
peasantry ; for it shows that here a true man fell, and
a martyr for Christ's kingly crown sleeps in his lonely
grave, waiting the resurrection of the just. How
much of its undying interest does our city owe to the
localities with which this cause is associated ! There,
rose the gallows, on which the best and worthiest of
the land were hung like caitiffs ; and yonder, half-way
between that castle and the palace, stood the gate
above which their heads sat in ghastly rows, bleaching
in the wind, and rain, and sun. In the neighborhood
of this very church we seem to tread on sacred ground.
This winding street, tliese low-browed windows, these
old quaint tenements that see us quietly gathering for
Sabbath worship, were crowded two hundred years ago
with the spectators of a different, 1 might say a holier,
certainly a more stirring scene. " They come !" runs
through the anxious crowd, and fixes every wandering
eye on the advancing procession. And there, with
slow but firm step, comes hoar old age, and there,
noble manhood, and there, most wept for by mothers
and maidens, fair gentle youth — a band of candidates
for martyrdom, witnesses for Christ's kingly rights,
heroes who esteemed it noble for such a cause to die.
In truth, our fathers set a higher value on Christ's
headship than they set upon their own heads ; and for
tliat cause alone not less than eighteen thousand were
faithful unto death during the long, and bloody, but
glorious years of persecution. They have gone to
their reward. Called, in some form or other, to deny

THE HEAD. 245

ourselves, and take up our cross, may we follow them,
even as they followed Christ ! He has said, " Who-
soever loveth father or mother more than me is not
worthy of me, and whosoever loveth son or daugliter
more than me is not worthy of me, and he that taketh
not up his cross and folio weth me is not worthy of me.
He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth
his life shall find it.

A few years ago, as the world knows, we felt our-
selves called on to revive our fathers' testimony, and
shake the dust of two centuries from their time-worn
banner. We had a cross to take up. Without know-
ing its weight, we took it up. And, while it becomes
us to confess with sorrow before God and man, that
human passions mingled " strange fire " with our ser-
vice, and that fighting sometimes for victory as much
as for truth, dross adulterated the gold of our offering,
we thought then, and think still, that ours was a call
of duty, and a righteous cause. We were martyrs
neither by desire nor by mistake. But, as I have no
wish to lay open old wounds, and would only dwell on
those views of this doctrine which may edify the whole
church and promote mutual love, I will only say fur-
ther, that I hope, and trust, and pray, that the more
the churches are called to suffer for Christ's headship,
they will hold it the more resolutely. Never fear.
There are other things beside the sturdy oak which the
roaring tempest nurses into strength. The storms that
strip the tree of some leaves, perhaps of some rotten
branches, but moor it deeper in the rifts of the ever-
lasting rock. Christ's words cannot fail. On this rock
have I built my church, and the gates of hell shall not
prevail against it.

246 THE HEAD.

In now entering on the subject-matter of my text,
I remark —

I. That Christ's body is his church.

One to examine, but not to dissect, while all other
bodies shall die, this is deathless. " Because I live,"
says our Lord, " ye shall live also." Paradox as it
sounds, this body is ever changing, yet unchangeable :
different and the same ; an undying whole formed of
dying parts. Strange! yet not more strange than
many things in nature. You are not the same person,
for example, who, worshipped here twelve months ago.
In name, in form, in features the same, in substance you
are entirely different. Like Michael and Satan, who
contended for the body of Moses, life and death liave
been contending for yours ; death attacking, life defend-
ing ; so that, the former constantly repairing what the
latter is constantly destroying, the corporeal forms
which we animate and inliabit, are undergoing such
rapid as well as perpetual cliange, tliat a })criod much
shorter than seven years renews our whole system. Life
is just a long siege ; and, though death triumph in the
end, looking at the many years over which the struggle
is protracted, surely we are fearfully and wonderfully
preserved as well as made. But take another, and
more familiar illustration. Look at a river. The
exile returns to the haunts of his early years, and
there, emblem of the peace of God, the river flows as
it flowed wlicn his life was young. Tumbling in snowy
foam over the same rock, winding its snake-like way
through the same verdant meadows, washing the feet
of the same everlasting hills, it ruslies through the
glen with the impetuous passions of a perpetual youth,
to pursue its course onward to tlie ocean that lies gleam-

THE HEAD. 247

ing like a silver rim around the land. A gray old
man, he seats himself on the bank where wild roses
still shed their blossoms on a bed of thyme, and the
crystal pool at his feet, these waters foaming round the
old gray stone, that bright dancing stream, as they re-
call many touching memories of happy childhood and
companions dead or gone, seem the same. Yet they
are not. The liquid atoms, the component parts of the
river, have been undergoing perpetual change. Even
so it is with the church of Christ. The stream of
time bears on to eternity, and the stream of grace
bears on to glory, successive generations, while the
cliurch herself, like a river fed by perennial foun-
tains, remains — unchangeable in Christ's immutability,
in liis immortality immortal.

These figures, however, fail in one important point.
That river is one. The body is one. Unfortunately,
the churches are many, split into such numerous, and,
in not a few instances, such senseless divisions, that I
know nothing better fitted to make a man recoil from
the spirit of sectarianism than to see, drawn out to its
full length, the long, v^ondrous, weary roll of the
various sects that exist in Cliristendom. Fancy all
these urging their claims on a newly-convorted heathen !
What a Babel of tongues ! With what perplexity
might he ask, amid so many contending factions, Wliich
is the true church and body of Christ? Let us see.

Seven sons of Jesse are summoned into Samuel's
presence. Goodly men, they stand before liim, candi-
dates for the crown of Israel. But they cannot all be
kings ;. and which of them is to be the Lord's anointed ?
One after another, all the seven are rejected. Amazed
at the result, the prophet turns to their father, saying^
" Are here all thy children ?" and on being told,

248 THE HEAD.

"There remaineth yet the youngest, and, behold, he
keepeth the sheep," he says, *' Send and fetch liim, for
we will not sit down till he come hither." A messen-
ger goes. By-and-by, feet are heard at the door ; it
opens ; and, little dreaming of the honors that await
him, David, who had left his harp, and pipe, and play-
ful lambs, on the hills of Bethlehem, enters — modesty,
and manliness, and beauty in that countenance which
was " goodly to look to." While tlie old man eyes
the lad, as he stands reverently before him. a voice not
caught by Jesse's ear, but heard by Samuel's, says,
" Arise, anoint him, for this is he."

Now, suppose that the different churches, like these
sons of Jesse, stood before us. Whatever may be made
of their claims, each cannot be Christ's true body. He
has but one church ; for the second Adam, like the first,
is the husband of one wife. And just as the church
cannot have two heads, neither can the head have two
bodies ; for, as that body were a monster which had
more heads than one, not less monstrous were that form
where one head was united to two separate bodies.
Of all these churches, then, each claiming to be cast in
the true gospel mould — that with consecrated bishops,
this with simple presbyters, this other without either ;
that administering baptism to infants as well as adults,
this only to adults ; that robed in a ritual of many
forms, this thinking that religion, like beauty, when
unadorned, is adorned the most — which is Christ's
body, the Lamb's wife ? Which are we to receive as
the favorite of heaven ? Of which does God say, as he
said of David among rival brethren. Arise, anoint her,
for this is she? Of none of them. Christ has a
church, but it is none of these. In explanation of a
remark which may surprise some, and is fitted to teach
all of us humility and charity, I observe —

THE HEAD. 249

II. That Christ's body, which is not identical with
any one church, is formed of all true believers, to what-
ever denomination they may belong.

It is natural for men to be partial to their own
sect. Nor do I quarrel with the feeling, if, looking
kindly on others, you are ready to extend the hand of
fellowship to all that love the Lord Jesus Christ.
Mothers are prone to think their own children lovelier
than their neighbors' ; and nothing is more natural
than that we should say of our own denomination,
Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excel-
lest them all. That is no breach of Christian charity.
But to foster a spirit of sectarianism, and thus sin
against Christ's spirit, is an offence as great as to sin
against his truth. In some respects, indeed, I think
bigotry is worse than heresy ; and more hateful in
God's sight than error, is the liaughty churchism or
exclusive self-righteous pride which say to others,
" Stand by thyself ; come not near me ; for I am holier
than thou."

" The king's daughter is all glorious within ;" but
where on earth is the church which will stand that test ?
Where is the church that, among other points of resem-
blance to the ark, has not the unclean as well as clean
within its walls, raven and dove, leopard and kid, the
cruel lion with the gentle lamb ? Are not events ever
and anon occurring to remind us of the two birds
Noah sent forth on a voyage of discovery ? Like this
snow-white dove on weary wing returning to the ark,
there are souls that can find no rest in sin or in the world,
or anywhere away from God ; happy souls ! but, alas,
there are others, also tenants of the ark, like yonder
foul raven, that croaks and flaps his wings above cor-

250 THE HEAD.

ruption, and riots on the carcasses of the dead. Such
characters as the last are found in the purest churches ;
spots on the sun, dead flies among the ointment. Surely
it behoves us to see that we are not of their number.
For, oh ! these are sad and solemn words, Many are
called, but few are chosen. And, happier than Christ,
happier than Paul, that pastor must have a small and
select flock whose members cost him no anxiety, neither
fears nor tlie tears of him who said, Many walk, of
whom I have told you often, and now tell you even
weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of
Christ : whose end is destruction, whose god is their
belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind
earthly things.

By these remarks I would not disparage outward
ordinances and forms. They are valuable in their
own place and for their own purposes ; frames, as they
are, to set the picture in ; caskets for truth's jewels ;
dead poles, no doubt, yet useful to support living plants,
and very beautiful when the bare stem is festooned
with green leaves, and crowned with a head of flow-
ers. The church of Christ, however, is not to be
identified with this or that other form either of
government or worship. She embraces the good of all
denominations, and rejects the bad, from whatever hands
they have received the rite of baptism, to whatever
communion they may belong, however pure thoir creed,
or scriptural their form of worship. " The just shall
live by faitli,'' by nothing else, He belongs therefore
to the true churcli who believes ; and he who believes
not, to whatever church he may belong, has " neither
part nor lot in this matter." ^' He that believeth and
is baptized shall be saved ; but he that believeth not
ghall be damned." God help us to lay that truth to

THE HEAD. 251

heart, and to embrace the Saviour as he is offered in
the gospel !

I have seldom heard this catholic and happy doctrine
more pointedly expressed than by a poor woman who
dwelt in one of the darkest and most wretched quarters
of our city. Away from her native home, and v/ithout
one earthly friend, she had floated here, a stranger in
a strange land, to sink into the most abject poverty ;
her condition but one degree better than our Saviour's.
In common with the fox, she had a hole to lay her head
in. Yet, although poor and outwardly wretched, she
was a child of God, one of the jewels which, if sought
for, we should sometimes find in dust-heaps. With
a bashfulness not unnatural, she had shrunk from
exposing her poverty to the stare of well-robed con-
gregations, resorting on Sabbatli days to the well-
appropriate place — where a pious man was wont to
preach to ragged outcasts, crying in the name of Jesus>
If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.
Supposing, in my ignorance of this, tliat she was living,
like the mass around her, in careless neglect of her
soul, I began to warn her. Nor shall I soon forget
how she interrupted me, and, drawing herself up with
an air of humble dignity, and half offended, said. Sir,
I worship at the well ; and am sure that if we are true
believers in Jesus, and love liim, and try to follow him,
we shall never be asked at the judgment day. Where
did you worship ? Well said, and well shot, thou poor
one ; that arrow hits the mark ! And as T hold no other
creed, nor admit anything to be of vital importance
but genuine heaven-born faith, let me ask, Are you
true believers ? Blessed are you ! Blessed is he whose
transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered ! Are
you unbelievers, impenitent, ungodly ? You may by

252 THE HEAD.

profession belong to a church which holds the head,
and holds truth, and has, in God's providence, been
honored to testify and suffer for it ; but what of that ?
There is no safety in that. On the contrary, you
appear only the more offensive to a holy God. A spot
looks worse on the face of beauty ; Satan looked most
hateful when he stood among the sons of God ; and,
as I have observed at funerals in the winter time, skulls
never look so grim, nor the churchyard mould so black,
as when they have been flung on a bank of snow.
Trust not in your church, nor say, " The temple of the
Lord, the temple of the Lord are we." Judgment
shall begin at the house of God.

IIL Christ's body, in a sense, embraces all those
churches which hold the essential truths of the gospel.

It was the misfortune of Europe that Charles V. did
not learn at an early period of his life the lesson which
he was afterwards taught in a Spanish cloister. It
had saved him much treasure, the world much blood-
shed, and his soul much sin. After vainly attempting
to quench the light of the Reformation, and make all
men think alike, this great monarch, resigning his
crown, retired to a monastery. Wearied, perhaps,
with the dull round of mechanical devotions, he be-
took himself, in the mechanical arts, to somctliing more
congenial to his active mind. After long and repeated
efforts, he found that he could not make two time-pieces
go alike, two machines, tliat liad noitlicr mind nor will,
move in perfect harmony. Whereupon, it is said, lie
uttered this memorable reflection. What a fool was I
to attempt to make all men think alike! Unfortu-
notely for the peace of the church and for the interests

THE HEAD. 253

of Christian charity, Charles the king has had more
followers than Charles the philosopher.

There is a broad line of distinction between the
essentials and the circumstantials of the faith. Yet
what violent, what unnatural attempts at uniformity
have men made, as if uniformity were a law of God !
It is on no such model that he has constructed our
world. God, while he preserves unity, delights in va-
riety. A dull, dreary, uninteresting uniformity, is quite
foreign to nature. Look at the trees of the forest ! all
presenting the same grand features, wliat variety in
their forms ! Some, standing erect, wear a proud and
lofty air ; some, modest-like, grow lowly and seek the
slmde ; some, like grief, hang the head and have weep-
ing branches ; some, like aspiring and unscrupulous
ambition, climb up by means of others, killing what
they climb by ; while some, rising straight and tall,
with branches all pointing upwards, present in their
tapering forms emblems of the piety that spurns the
ground and seeks the skies. Or look at the flowers,
what variety of gay colors in a meadow ! Or look at
mankind, what variety of expression in human faces,
of tones in human voices ! There arc no two faces
alike, no two flowers alike, no two leaves alike, I be-
lieve no two grains of sand alike. In that variety
God manifests his exhaustless resources, and Nature
possesses one of her most attractive charms. And
why insist on all men observing a uniform style of
worship, or thinking alike on matters that are not essen-
tial to salvation ? You might as well insist on all
men wearing the same expression of face, or speaking
in the same tone of voice ; for I believe that there are
as great natural and constitutional differences in the
minds as in the bodies of men.

254 THE HEAD.

How tolerant was Paul of differences ! Forgetting
how he bore even with errors which would now-a-days
call down prompt excommunication on their authors,
men, insisting on uniformity in the mere circumstan-
tials of religion, have rent the church and sown the
seeds of discord far and wide. Praying all the while
for the peace of Jerusalem, they have made the church
of Christ present such a melancholy spectacle as Jeru-
salem itself exhibited when, the Roman witliout and
famine within, different factions raged in the city, and
the Jews, fired by ferocious passions, plunged their
Bwords into each other's bosoms.

His church has not followed her Lord's example.
They were thieves and murderers whom Christ cleared
out of the temple. But, struck with frenzy, aiming at
an impossible uniformity, his followers have driven
their brethren out, while Religion has stood by, wring-
ing her hands, like Rachel weeping for her children,
because they were not. No man, says the Bible, hateth
his own flesh. What sane man consents to part with
an arm or limb unless it be dead or incurably diseased ?
But churches, possessed, if not of a devil, yet of tlic
greatest folly, have cut off their living members for no
other offence than some small differences, some petty
trifling sore, which the progress of time or tlie balm
of kindness would have healed. I do not deny that
there have been justifiable separations. There must
needs be offences ; and it does not follow that the woe
pronounced on those by whom offences come falls on
the party stigmatized as separatists. It is they who,
creating wrongs or refusing redress, compel men of
tender conscience to leave a church, that are guilty, if
there be schism, of its sin.

Pivisious are bad things, Do not fancy that I have

TPIE HEAD. 255

any sympathy 'vTith those who, confounding charity
with indifference, regard matters of religion as not
worth disputing about. Such a state of death is still
worse than war. Give me the roaring storm rather
than the peace of the grave. Division is better than
such union as the frost produces, when with its cold
and icy lingers it binds up into one dead, congealed,
heterogeneous mass, stones and straws, pearls and peb-
bles, gold and silver, iron and clay, substances that
have nothing in common. Yet divisions are bad things.
They give birth to bad passions. They cause Ephraim
to envy Judah, and Judah to vex Ephraim. Therefore,
what we ought to aim at, is to heal them, and where we
cannot heal them, to soften their asperities. " Blessed
are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." " Blessed
are the peacemakers ; they shall be called the children
of God." If for conscience's sake Christian men must
part, oh, that they would part, saying with Abraham,
Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and
thee, for we are brethren. Separate thyself, I pray
thee, from me : if thou wilt take the left hand, then I
will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the right
hand, then I will go to the left.

" The righteous sliall flourish like the palm tree."
But it may not be the will of God that his church, in
its collective character, should ever present, in this
world, the characteristic feature of that beautiful tree.
The palm has a peculiar port. It rises tall and grace-
ful in one straight stem Avithout a single branch, up to
the leafy plumes that wave above the desert sands and
form its graceful crown. The church, throwing out many
goodly and fruitful boughs, may ever present apparent
variety in actual unity — like tliat giant oak which, with
its roots in the rock and its head in the skies, throws

256 THK HEAD.

out many a branch to catch the blessed gifts of heaven
in dews, and showery, and sunbeams. We hear much
abolit the unity of the church. And how often has it
been made to serve the interests of falsehood, how
often has it been used as a spell, wherewith cunning
priests have bound simple men to systems of gross
error? Rightly understood, the unity of the church
is by no means incompatible with the existence of dif-
ferent denominations. What are they but the branches
of a tree which still is one ; one in root, one in stem,
one in sap, one in flower, and one in fruit. We have
one faith, one spirit, and one baptism. We are united
in Christ ; we meet in that centre ; and, like the radii
of a circle, the nearer we approach our common centre,
the nearer we draw to Christ, we shall be the nearer
to each other. Let us gladly recognise a common
brotherhood, and love one another, even as Christ
loved us. Members of the same family, travelers to
the same home, called with the same holy calling, let
us ever remember the words of Joseph to his brethren,
See that ye fall not out by the way.

But of all the forms of imagery under which
Christ's church is set forth, I prefer that in my text.
Bringing out as well as any other our relationship
to Christ, and better than any other our relationship
to each other, it teaches us the most ])lessed lessons
of love, and charity, and tender sympathy. When
bill-hook or pruning-knife lops a branch from the tree,
the wounded stem bleeds, and seems for a while to
drop some tears of sorrow, but they are soon dried up ;
the other boughs suffer no pain, show no sympathy,
their leaves dance merrily in the wind over the poor
dead branch that lies withering in their shade. But
sympathy pervades the body and its members. Touch

THE HEAD. 257

my finger roughly, and the whole body feels it ; wound
this foot, and the pang, thrilling through my frame,
shoots upward to tlie head ; let the heart, or the head,
or even a tooth ache, and all the system suffers disorder.
With what tenderness is a diseased member touched !
What anxious efforts do we make to save a limb!
With what slow reluctance have I seen a wasted pa-
tient, after months or even long years of suffering, con-
sent to the last remedy, the surgeon's knife ! What
holy lessons of love, charity, sympathy, does Christ
therefore teach us by the figure of my text ! We have
differences ; but do these form any reason wliy we
should not love each other, give and forgive, bear and
forbear, suffer and sympathize, one with another ; and
agreeing to differ, walk together as far as we are
agreed ? Let us keep " tlie unity of the Spirit in the
bond of peace." These differences are like our dark,
cold shadows, that, little at noon, grow larger as night
approaches, assuming a gigantic size when the sun
creeps along the horizon of a winter sky, or hangs low
at his rise or setting. Sun of righteousness ! rise
higher and higher over us, till in thy light and love
the church enjoys the full blaze of thy meridian beams,
and these shadows all but vanish ! For this blessed
end, God of love, pour out thy Spirit more affluently
on the churches I Then shall the brethren dwell
together in unity, and the world say, as it said in tlio
days of old, See how these Christians love one another !

(continued.)

He is the head of the body, the Church.— Colossians i. 18.

God " is not the author of confusion." So in the
beginning he established a harmony on earth as per-
fect as that of heaven. Nothing was out of tune, nor
was there a jarring note in all creation. But how
many and great discordances have the devil and sin
introduced ? Can any man, who looks abroad on the
world, shut his eyes to the fact tliat much is out of
order, that many things are out of joint, and that we
do not always find, to use a common saying, the right
man in the right place? Sceptres fall from the strong
grasp of great men into feeble hands. The sweat of
labor stands on begrimed and dusty brows that are
fitted to wear a coronet or a crown. He ploughs the
rugged soil, who has a hand to guide the helm of
church or state. Men sit in the pews, that have piety
and talents to adorn the pulpit. Money flows in on
those who, unlike the lake that gives as it gets, have
no generous outgoings that correspond to their income ;
like water in foul stagnation, or wasted on a bed of
sand, what is lost to others is no true gain to them.
Poverty, on the other hand, though not the curse, is
the cross of many a liberal soul. Many people in tlie

THE HEAD. 259

world have the power to bless others, but are eaten up
by their own wretched selfishness ; while others have
the will to do good, but lack the power. So many
things are discordant, so different from what they
should be, and but for sin had been, that religion only
can reconcile a man to the world, and enable him, from
circumstances which embitter and exasperate the spirit
of the ungodly, to draw lessons of faith and patience.
Yielding neither to envy nor to covetousness, a good
man bows to tlie will of Providence. Using no vio-
lence to set wrong things right, he waits the advent of
a better world, having '' learned, in whatsoever state
he is, therewith to be content."

Among other anomalies, we see that the moral and
physical properties of men are often out of keeping.
I have found a kind, gentle, and most loving heai-t
under a rough exterior, reminding me of tlie milk and
meat stored up within the cocoa-nut's dry, hard, liusky
shell. On the other hand, look at Absalom ! What
winning manners, what grace and beauty, how mucli
of all that in form and features pleases the eye and
ministers to the pride of life, are united in that man
to the greatest moral baseness ! as if God would show
us in how little esteem he holds what he tlirew away
on so bad a man ; as if he intended to rebuke the silly
vanity which worships at a mirror, and feeds on charms
that shall feed the worms of the grave. Nor is liis
the only case where a fair form has lodged a foul
heart, and crimes of treachery and murder have stained
the hands of beauty.

Again, we often see that the mental does not cor-
respond with the corporeal development. The finest
genius has not seldom been enshrined in a poor crazy
casket ; or in a coarse one, like a pearl within its rough

260 THE HEAD.

Bca-shell. Little men have done mighty things. The
boldest daring has been united with a puny presence ;
and how did that great emperor, who in our days
aspired to be another Alexander, illustrate the poet's
words —

" The mighty soul how small a body holds."

On the other hand it was, at least in some respects, a
weak head that stood on the broad shoulders of Sam-
son ! Whom the Philistines could not subdue, a woman
conquered, binding with her charms one whom they
could not bind with their chains. He fell before the
influence tliat in Solomon's case made the wisest the
most foolisli of men. God says. In vain the net is
spread in the siglit of any bird ; yet see how Samson
walks straight in, snared by a cunning transparent to
all eyes but his own. Enslaved by animal passions,
asleep in Delilah's traitorous lap, a fettered captive in
the hands of the Philistines, there he lies, a great lion
in the hunter's net ; reminding us, by way of contrast,
of the words, " Wisdom is better than strength ; wis-
dom is better than weapons of war."

An example also of discordancy, but with mind tow-
ering aloft over matter, what a noble contrast does
Paul present to Samson ! There is nothing in the out-
ward man to attract the gazer's eye. According to
ancient tradition, he was a poor, mean-looking figure.
His presence, said his enemies, is weak, and his speecli
contemptible. But put his parchments before him, put
a pen in his hand, and, higher than the bird ever flew
from whose wing it dropped, he soars away into a liea-
ven of tliought, or, coming down with an eagle's swoop,
descends further than any man before or since into the
deepest depths of gospel mysteries. Or, give liini

THE HEAD. 261

liberty of speech ; place liim on Mars' Hill to expound
his despised faith, or let him stand on his defence at
the bar of kings, like a lion at bay. Indifference gives
place to interest, contempt changes into admiration,
the audience is hushed, and, amid breathless silence, he
sways the multitude with a master's hand, his puny
form seeming to rise to a giant's stature. He seizes
error, and rends it as Samson rent the lion ; he lays
these arms of his on the colossal pillars of Time's
oldest superstitions, shakes the hoary fabric, and pulls
it down into the dust, burying gods and goddesses in
one common ruin.

The casket affords no test by wliich to estimate the
value of tlie jewel. The boards and binding of a
book suggest no idea of the brilliant thoughts that are
scattered, like stars, over its pages. So, in this dis-
cordant state, you cannot judge the inner by the outer
man, the head or the heart by tlie body which they
rule and animate. That observation applies to the
most sacred things. The church of Christ herself pre-
sents the greatest of anomalies. And it would do our
Lord the greatest injustice, if, overlooking that fact,
we were to judge the head by its body, and argue from
what Christians are, what Clirist himself must be.

Neither, in the first place, in our own, nor in any
other existing church, do we see the real body of which
Jesus Christ is the head. Its members consist of all
true believers, and are dispersed over the wide lands
of Christendom. Then, what are tlie best churclies
at the best, but gold mines ? Some may be, some cer-
tainly are, richer than others in the precious metal,
yet all have their dross and rubbish. Nor, to continue
the figure, shall the true churcli become visible, appear
as a distinct and separate body, till the gold, gathered

262 THE HEAD.

from a hundred mines, and purified by a Spirit whose
emblem is fire, and presenting to the divine Refiner a
perfect image of himself, is run into a common mould.
Besides, while the materials of this church are widely
scattered, and much of the ore yet lies buried in the
mine, none of them are pure ; none perfect. Who can
say that he has no sin ? There is no man that sinneth
not. Nor is there any, thougli he has come in contact
with the finest specimens of piety, and has been happy
enough to breathe the holiest atmosphere of Christian
society, who is not ready with the wise man to say, I
have seen an end of all perfection.

To change the figure, the materials of the heavenly
temple are now under the hammer, and by hard strokes
of fortune and rough providences, as well as by the
ordinary means of grace, God is preparing these living
stones to be removed by the hand of death, and set in
a temple where no sound of hammer is heard. The
churcli is in process of building. And no more tlian
any other builder is Christ to be judged by his work,
till he has brought his labors to a close. Then, when
from the most excellent majesty, the voice once heard
on the cross cries again, "It is finished,'' when he shall
bring forth the headstone thereof with shoutings of
" Grace, grace unto it," when the scafi'olding of present
ordinances is removed, when the lieavens which con-
cealed it are rolled up like a curtain, how shall that
temple, of such proportions and surpassing splendor,
stand forth the admiration of the universe, its greatest
wonder, and God's brightest glory ! Then, to take up
the metaphor of my text, the body will be worthy of
the head, as the head is the glory of the body.

THE HEAD. 263

I. As Head of his church, our Lord Jesus Christ is
tlie life of its members.

You do not need to be anatomists to know that, as
the head is the highest, it is the noblest, most impor
tant part of our whole frame. Seat of the senses and
shrine of tlie soul, it is more than any other part con-
nected with life and its various functions. From tliis
great source and centre of vital power the other organs
draw all their energies. Parah'ze those nerves which
connect them with the brain, as the wires of the tele-
graph connect the different stations with the electric
battery, and their powers are gone, instantly gone.
Their functions cease ; the eye lias no sight ; the ear
no hearing; tlie lips no voice; the tongue tastes
neither sweetness in honey nor bitterness in worm-
wood ; the strong arm of labor liangs powerless by
the side ; nor is there power left to lift a foot, tbougli
the lifting of it were to save your life. The whole
machinery of tliis wonderful frame stops, like that of
a mill when you shift the sluices, and turn the water
off its dasliing wheel. Indeed so intimately connected
are the head and the body, that one cannot exist with-
out the other. In her freaks, no doubt, Nature does
produce strange monsters, which, tliough deficient,
some of this and some of that part, contrive to live ;
and it is marvelous to see what formidable? lesions the
body can suffer, of what valuable members it may be
maimed, and yet survive. But tlie loss of the head is
the loss of life. Death descends on the knife of the
guillotine. A bullet whistles through the parting air,
the lightning flaslies, the sword of the headsman gleams
in the sun, and — there is a corpse ! before the eye has
winked, the man is dead, stone dead.

264 THE HEAD.

In illustrating the doctrine and figure of my text,
this leads me to remark —

1. As head of his church, Jesus Christ, by means of
the connection which grace establishes between him
and the believer, maintains our spiritual life. Without
me, he says, ye can do nothing. As all our wishes,
words, and works, however they may be expressed in
looks, and sounds, and bodily movements, are born in
the brain, there is not a good wish we ever formed,
a good word we ever spoke, a good work we ever
did, but Christ was its fountain-head. Separated from
him, a believer were no better than an eye plucked
from its socket, a cold, dead hand severed from the
bleeding arm.

Suppose that, by some strange cliance, this connec-
tion were dissolved, what a deadly paralysis would
seize the soul ! There are few sights more pitiful than
to see a man of robust strength, of eloquent lips, of
eagle eye, of majestic port, of stalwart step, by a stroke
of paralysis suddenly turned into a poor, stammering,
tottering, impotent object, whom the touch of a child
can prostrate in the dust. Yet he is only a feeble
image of what we should become were tlie gracious
communications of the Holy Spirit suspeaded. De-
prived of the strength I draw from Christ, I could not
stand a buffet from Satan's hand. How should I be
able to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus
Christ, or fight tlie good fight of faith ? However
strong the hand of faith had been, it would now shake
like an aspen leaf ; and, now but the wreck of other
days, gone were my power to sing the praises of God,
gone my power to walk, or run in the way of his com-
mandments. And this impotency, wliether it spread

THE HEAD. 265

over our souls like a creeping palsy, or came with the
suddenness of a stroke, were but the dismal prelude to
eternal death.

I have supposed, for illustration's sake, that the
connection were dissolved, but, blessed be God ! that
cannot be. " They shall never perish, neither shall
any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father,
which gave them me, is greater than all, and no man
is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand." With
such an assurance from his lips, how may we say to
Jesus, Thou hast set my feet upon a rock ? Standing
on its sunny summit, far above the surging waves of
doubt and fear, what hinders us to exclaim with Paul,
I am persuaded that neither life, nor death, nor angels,
nor principalities, nor power, nor things present, nor
things to come, nor any other creature, shall be able
to separate me from the love of God, which is through
Jesus ?

2. As head of his church, Jesus Christ is the source
of our spiritual life. We must not confound the means
of life with its first cause. The chamber in Shunam,
where a pious woman had lodged the man of God,
presents us with a fair and striking picture of what
we may do in communicating the blessing of spiritual
life to a soul dead in sins. Let us in fancy open the
door, and, with feelings of awe and wonder, enter that
room where Elisha, having left the mother below, has
shut himself up with the cold, unconscious corpse. The
dead boy is lying in the prophet's chamber, and on the
prophet's bed ; as if, like a drowning one who catclies
a passing straw, the poor woman had thouglit, when
she laid him there, that there might be something not
only sacred, but life-restoring, that clung to tlie walls
12

266 THE HEAD.

which had been hallowed by the good man's prayers.
He gazes fixedly and fondly on the pale placid counte-
nance ; and having waked up his tenderest affections
for the little dead creature he had often carried in his
arms, and kissed, and blessed, Elisha turns from the
lifeless clay to the living God. He kneels beside the
dead. He prays for the dead. And in prayers a
mother may hear, as, with beating heart, she sits silent,
and listening, and hoping below, he pours out his very
soul to God. The prayer ceases. It has been heard.
The prophet knows it ; and now rises to employ other
means, nor doubts of their success. As one wdio, seek-
ing another's conversion, brings the truth in himself
into kindest, closest contact with that other's soul —
soul to soul, and heart to heart, Elisha brings his own
life as close to the dead as possible. Love revolting
at nothing, he takes the corpse into his arms. He
stretches himself upon the body ; he puts his mouth
upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his
hands upon his hands. Tlie living heart of the prophet
beats against the dead heart of the child, knocks there
to waken it ; he all the time pleading with God, en-
treating with tears that hang on the lashes of those
closed eyes and bedew the pallid face of death. We
know not how long the dead lay in the embraces of
the living ; but pains and prayer had their sure re-
ward. A step is on the floor. The mother catches it.
She starts. The door opens. " Gehazi," cries the
prophet, a summons rapidly followed by the glad com-
mand, " Call the Shunammite." Hope sounds in that
voice ; joy leaps in her heart. She hastens up, she
rushes in. He points her to the smiling boy, saying,
Take up thy son, as with delirious joy and open arms
she bounds across the floor to lock him in her embraces.

THE HEAD. 267

Thus, simply as a medium or link which connects
the living with the dead, a believer may be the means
of communicating life. But the life which Christ gave
you was his own. " Ye know the grace of our Lord
Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes
he became poor, that ye through his poverty miglit be
rich." What Elisha did not, and could not do in that
chamber for the child, our Saviour did on the cross for us.
He died that we might live. He poured out his soul unto
death. To fill our veins with blood, he emptied his own.
He stretched himself out upon the cold corpse of a world
to communicate life, and, while communicating it, ex-
pired. He breathed life into the dead, but it Avas his
own. If any vital heavenly fire burns in you, it was
Christ who kindled it ; for the spirit life came not, like
the natural, through father and mother, flashing, as an
electric spark, from the first man along the linked
chain of successive generations. Not of blood, nor of
the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of
God, that life came when Christ impressed his kiss of
love on deatli's icy lips, just as that of Adam came
from his Maker, Avlicn, stooping over tlie clay model of
a man, God breathed into its nostrils tlie breath of
life. And as, by his death, which was a satisfaction
for sin, Jesus Christ purchased our life, by his life he
now maintains it ; so that, as the life of a pregnant
mother is the life of the babe witliin lier, his life is
ours. Is the connection between these two so intimate,
that she might address her unborn, saying. Because I
live, thou livest also? Well, Jesus says more; lie
says, Because I live, ye sJmll live also. Tliat motiicr
may die. Hope has strewed her withered blossoms on
a grave where the rose and the rose-bud lie buried
together ; and death, coffining the babe in a dead

268 THE HEAD.

mother's womb, by one fell stroke has inflicted a double
blow on some childless, widowed man. But, in their
life one with Christ, believers can never die. Never :
for he dietli no more. That head bows on a cross no
more ; that eye darkens in death no more ; that brow,
crowned with glory, bleeds under thorns no more.
" I am he that liveth and was dead."

Thus, restored to life by Christ, and through your
union with him safe from the second death, believers
can dare, in a sense, to use his own great words, saying,
" I am he that liveth, and was dead, and, behold, I am
alive for evermore." So long as Christ lives, you live ;
so long as Christ shall live, you shall live. Since
your life is hid with Christ in God, why then should
you dread the grisly king ? Fear not the shaking of
his dart. You are deathless men. Hear the voice of
your Saviour. " I give unto them eternal life ; and
they shall never perish." " He that believeth in me,
though he were dead, yet shall lie live ; and whosoever
liveth and believeth in me shall never die." Disease
may rot off a limb ; an empty sleeve, pinned to a breast
hung thick with stars, and crosses, and medals, may
tell of losses suffered as well as battles fought in a
country's cause ; and accident may any day tear a
member from our body, and separate it from its living
head. But no accident, no chance, no, nor all the devils
of hell, shall separate us from the love of Christ. I cling
to that belief. Without it, where were the peace of
the saints ? Where the promise and care of him who
says, I will never leave you, let not your heart be
troubled ; ye believe in God, believe also in me.

II. As Head of his church, Jesus Christ rules its
members.

THE HEAD. 269

It is iLot pain that makes the insect go spinning
round and round, to the entertainment of the thought-
less, not cruel, boy who has beheaded it. It has lost
in the head that which preserves harmony among the
members, and controls their movements, and prevents
such anarchy in the body corporeal as there was in the
body politic, when there was no king in Israel, and
every man did that which was right in his own eyes.
Seated, as becomes a king, in the highest place, the
head gives law to all beneath it. The tongue speaks
or is silent, the arms rise or fall, the feet walk or rest,
the eye opens or shuts, as this sovereign wills ; and,
transmitting its orders along the nerves which, rami-
fied through the body, reach the most distant members,
it receives from all them instant, implicit obedience.
It rules with more despotic authority than any other
sovereign. Its subjects never mutiny ; they hatch no
plots ; they form no conspiracies.

Patterns of the obedience which we should yield to
Jesus Christ, the members hesitate not to obey the
head, even to their own loss and painful suffering.
Take the hand, for instance. Archbishop Cranmer
stands chained to the stake. The fagots are lighted.
With forked tongues the flames rise through the smoke
that opens, as the wind blows it aside, to show that
great old man standing up firm in the fiery trial. Like
a true penitent, he resolves that the hand which had
signed his base recantation shall burn first ; and how
bravely it abides the flame ! In obedience to the head,
the hand lays itself down to suffer amputation ; in
obedience to. the head, it flings away the napkin, sign
for the drop to fall ; in obedience to the head, as was
foreseen by some of our fathers when they attached
their names to the League and Covenant, it firmly

L70 THE HEAD.

signed the bond that sealed their fate and doomed
them to a martyr's grave. Let the head forgive, and
the hand at once opens to grasp an enemy's, in pledge
of quarrel buried and estrangement gone. Would
to God that Jesus Christ had such authority over us !
Make us, 0 Lord, thy willing subjects in the day of
thy power ! Ascend the throne of our hearts ! Prince
of Peace ! take unto thee thy great power, and reign !

How happy, how holy should we be, were our hearts,
our minds, our bodies, as obedient to the laws of his
word and to the influences of his Spirit, as that hand
and this tongue are to the head that rules them.
Brethren, what else but this is needed, not only to pre-
serve the purity and peace of our souls, but to restore
purity and peace to distracted churches? My body
knows and owns no authority whatever but its own
head. Why should Christ's church do otherwise?
How many divisions would be healed, would she re-
pudiate all government but his in things belonging to
his kingdom, would she take his word as her only rule,
and read it with the docile faith of a child, would she
call none master but Jesus, nor admit anything to bind
her conscience but the law and the testimony, would
she throw down all sectarian walls and barriers, and
make nothing necessary to church communion but what
is necessary to being a Christian.

There is no essential difference between the Evan-
gelical denominations. And what should hinder them
from being as ready to love and help one tlie other
as my foot is to run in the service of my hand, and
as my hand is to work in the service of my foot, and
as my eyes and ears, standing on their tower of obser-
vation, are to watch for the good of the body and all
its members ? Were there sympathy like that among

THE HEAD. 271

the brethren, how soon would there be harmony in
Jerusalem ! What triumphs would crown her arms !
what prosperity would bless her palaces ! The sin, the
shame, the scandal, the monstrous, unnatural, afflicting
spectacle of Christian churches, up in arms against each
other, and stunning the ears of a wondering, scoffing
world with the din of battle, would cease, for ever
cease. Let the fields of war present the horrid spec-
tacle of men shearing off each other's limbs, and plung-
ing their swords into each other's breasts, but who
ever heard of a case so monstrous, as a man's hands
and feet and other members declaring war, one with
another ? Alas ! such a sight the church of Christ
has often presented. The most wretched reasons have
been considered good enough for separating or remain-
ing separate. Paltry differences have given rise to
quarrels, and quarrels have given rise to blows, and
blows have ended in running sores and bitter hatreds,
and a bleeding, weeping church has been left, when
asked about her wounds, to reply, "These are the
wounds with which 1 was wounded in the house of my
friends."

Oh, that all our unhappy, unholy contentions would
cease ! How long, 0 Lord, how long ! Come, Holy
Dove, and sweep the storms away with tliy snow-white
wing, bringing from heaven the branch of an olive
plucked from the trees that grow by the river of life.
Yet vain meanwhile the wish ! Never shall the ark
rest, nor sweet peace brood, like a halcyon bird, on the
troubled waters, till Christ receives the honor which
is his due ; till the Head tliat is in heaven rules the
body that is on earth ; till the names of fathers, both
ancient and modern, are discarded, and no authority
but Christ's is acknowledged by a church which he has

272 THE HEAD.

bought with his precious blood, and whose members,
loved so dearly by him, ought so kindly and so dearly
to love one another. " Even so come, Lord Jesus."

III. As Head of his church, Jesus Christ sympath-
ises with its members.

According to Solomon, " all the rivers run into the
sea," and were you to dissect the body you would find
that all the nerves run into the brain. The head, is
the centre of the nervous system. Beneath that palatial
dome the soul dwells ; and by tlie nerves which run out
from tliat centre she corresponds with matter, looking
through the eyes, feeling by the hand, hearing by the
ears, speaking by the tongue, and, unless when she
seizes the hours of sleep to rest herself or to roam away
in dreams, thus holding communion with the outer world.
The nerves form a perfect system of living telegraphs.
By means of them the soul knows in an instant what
passes in all parts of her realm, and takes immediate
measures for the well-being of every member of the body.
Let the foot but touch a thorn, it is instantly with-
drawn. And how ? Pain, thrilling along the nerves,
flashes the danger upward to the head, which, by another
set of nerves, flashes back an immediate order, so that
before the thorn is buried in the flesh, the foot is with-
drawn. If but the wing of a gnat brush, if but a mote
of dust touch the guardian fringes, the eyelid drops,
like the portcullis at yonder castle gate, to keep out
the enemy. Thus the head sympathizes with all the
body, and, sympathizing, succours it.

Such is the sympathy between Christ and his people.
Let that comfort, strengthen, cheer you. He is in
constant, ay, in closest communication with every one
of his members ; and by means of lines that stretched

THE HEAD. 273

along the starry sky pass from earth to heaven, the
meanest cottage Avhere a believer dwells is joined to
the throne of God. No accident stops that telegraph.
The lines of providence radiate out, and the lines of
prayer radiate in. Touched with a fellow-feeling for
your infirmities, Christ suffers all your wrongs, is sen-
sible of your every want, and hears every prayer you
utter. You can never apply to him too often ; you
cannot ask of him too much. To his ear the needy 's
prayers are sweeter music than the voice of angels, or
the best strung harp in heaven.

In a distant land, how bitterly the poor invalid
thinks of home ! Oh ! how he wishes he could anni-
hilate the seas that roll between him and his mother,
and remove his sick-bed, far from her kind attentions.
A stranger in a strange land, the bitter tears rise the
faster in his eye as busy fancy flies away, and the home
of his boyhood stands before him, and the cool breeze
wafting odours from the flowers kisses his cheek, and
he passes under the shadow of the trees where he
played a happy child, and, entering the well-known
door, he hears his sister's song, and a father's merry
laugh, and a mother's sweet, soft, loving voice, and sees
those that would hasten to his help, and hang over his
bed, and smooth his restless pillow, and wipe the death-
sweat from his brow, gathered, a bright and happy
circle, by a fireside he shall never more see.

It is sweet to feel that any one cares for us ; sweet-
est in suffering's hour to have those near who love us,
to see the glistening tear, and hear the kind tones of
unwearying affection. But human sympathy, take it
at the best, is liable to a thousand interruptions ; and
then we have sometimes sorrows that we hide from
others, with which a bosom friend is not allowed to
12^-

274 THE HEAD.

intermeddle. But, blessed Jesus I there is no sorrow
thy people hide from thee, nor any pang thy members
feel but it is felt by thee. Thanks be to God that, se-
lecting from our frame its most sensitive and tender
part, he has set this forth in an image which all can
appreciate and understand. " He that toucheth you
toucheth the apple of his eye."

If, to words that so beautifully and fully set forth
the tender sympathy which Christ, as their Head, cher-
ishes for his beloved people, I could venture to add
any that ever fell from mortal lips, I would select those
of Margaret Wilson, Scotland's maiden martyr. Some
two hundred years ago, there was a dark period of
suffering in this land, when deeds of bloody cruelty
were committed on God's people, not outdone by Indian
butcheries. One day the tide is flowing in the Solway
Firth, rushing, like a race-horse, with snowy mane to
the shore. It is occupied by groups of weeping spec-
tators. They keep their eyes fixed on two objects out
upon the wet sands. There, two women, each tied fast
by their arms and limbs to a stake, stand within the
sea-mark ; and many an earnest prayer is going up to
heaven that Christ, who bends from his throne to the
sight, would help them now in their dreadful hour of
need. The elder of the two is staked fartliest out.
Margaret, the young martyr, stands bound, a fair sac-
rifice, near by the shore. Well, on tlie big billows
come, hissing to their naked feet ; on and further on
they come, death riding on the top of the waves, and
eyed by these tender women with unflincliing courage.
The waters rise and rise, till, amid a scream and cry
of horror from the shore, the lessening form of her
that had death first to face, is lost in the foam of the
surging wave, It recedes, but only to return ; and

THE HEAD. 276

now, the sufferer gasping for breath, her death strug-
gle is begun ; and now, for Margaret's trial and her
noble answer. " What see you yonder ?" said theii*
murderers, as, while the water rose cold on her own
limbs, they pointed her attention to her fellow-confes-
sor in the suffocating agonies of a protracted death.
Response full of the boldest faith, and brightest hope,
and all the divine, unfathomed consolation of my text
to you, she firmly answered, "I see Christ suffering in
one of his own members." Brave and glorious words !
borrowed in that hour from the precious language of
my text, and leading us to the apostle's most comfort-
ing and sublime conclusion, " We have not an high
priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our
infirmities ; but was in all points tempted like as we
are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly to
the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and
find grace to help in time of need."

Who ia the beguming.— Colossians i. 18.

There are certain points where the different king
doms of Nature meet, and are, indeed, interwoven
into each other. Each in turn passes the boundary
line into the other's domain, as the land and the sea
do, here, in the headland that stands so boldly out
among the boiling waves, there, in the beautiful bay
that lies asleep, locked in the arms of the land.

In our conservatories, for instance, you may see
flowers which present a strong, very curious, and sur-
prising resemblance to some of the insect tribes.
Leaves stand up above the body of the flower, in form,
position, and brilliant colors, so like painted wings,
that the flowers themselves appear to be gorgeous but-
terflies, suspended in the air, and hovering over the
plant, just as you have often seen the insect on fluttering
wing ere it alighted to drink the nectar from gold, or
silver, or ruby cup. The animal world, too, is fur-
nished with things as strange ; presenting, if I may say
so, a corresponding play and display of divine power.
If there are flowers like insects, there are insects so
like leaves, fresh and green, or sere and yellow, that
the deception is complete ; nor is the mistake discov-
ered, till, on putting out your hand to pluck the leaf,
you stand amazed to see it in an instant, as by magic,

(276)

THE BEGINNING. 277

change into a living creature, and, taking wing, fly off.
These objects are more than curious. A thoughtful
eye sees there not only the skill and power, but the
goodness of him, who, in that strange livery, so masks
a helpless creature, that its enemies are deceived, and
it is protected from their attacks. When we see such
exquisite devices and almighty power put forth to
shield the meanest insect, what force does it give to
our Lord's exhortation. Fear ye not, therefore, ye are
of more value than many sparrows.

But the kingdoms of nature touch at points still
more real and palpable. They are so shaded off into
each other, that some of the animals which occupy
their borders present a combination of properties puz-
zling even to philosophers, and an inexplicable wonder
to the ignorant multitude. The power of flying be-
longs to birds, and the power of walking to quad-
rupeds ; yet there are birds that never fly, and four-
footed animals that never walk. It is the characteristic
of land animals to breathe by lungs, and of fishes to
breathe by gills ; yet there are inhabitants of the sea
which breathe like creatures of the shore, and, on the
other hand, in dry and dusty walls, and beneath the
stones of the moorland, there are creatures whose
breathing organs are the same as tiiose of fishes.
Sensibility characterizes animals, insensibility plants ;
but there are plants with leaves so sensitive that they
shrink from the slightest touch — shutting like an eye-
lid, if they be rudely blown upon ; w^hile, on the other
hand, there are animals which you may turn inside
out, like the finger of a glove, and the rudeness seems
to give them no pain, and certainly neither destroys
their life, nor deranges their functions. Deprived of
light, plants pale and sicken, droop and die ; and so

278 THE BEGINNING.

dependent is animal life on a due supply of light, that
Dr. Kane imputes the madness that seized his dogs to
the darkness of that polar night which lasted for a
hundred and forty days. Yet, so independent are
some creatures of the blessed light, that in those vast
caverns of the New World which the boldest travelers
have not ventured fully to explore, amid a gloom deep
as the grave, and on the banks of a river which, rush-
ing through them, fills the ear with the roar of its
cataract, and goes, like a being whose fate is lost in
mystery, no man knows where, strange eyeless animals
roam, and have their loves, and, not overlooked by
God down there, enjoy a life that, faint emblem of the
condition of the lost, is passed in utter and perpetual
darkness. How marvelous are thy works, Lord God
Almighty !

In consequence of certain plants and animals being
endowed with properties that characterize the classes
next in order to themselves, there is a beautiful grada-
tion in nature. There is no great wide gap, no abrupt
and sudden change. The whole fabric of creation
appears rising upwards, like a lofty pyramid, with its
different courses dovetailed the one into the other ;
and so constructed, that by a series of steps you rise
from the lowest forms of existence up to man, stand-
ing upon its apex, with his feet resting on earth, and
his head, so to speak, touching the stars. And what
combinations are so strange as those which- meet in
man? In some respects how noble, in otliers liow
mean he is ; in his corporeal elements an animal, in his
spiritual essence an angel ; often the slave of passions
that grovel in the dust, yet endowed with powers that
hold converse with God ; before the fall half an angel
and half an animal, but now, exiled from Eden, his

THE BEGINNING. 279

life a mystery, and himself, as an old writer says, half
a devil and half a beast — a strange being at the best,
symbolized, after a sort, by those cherubim which, to
the countenance of a man and the wings of an angel,
joined the form of a beast.

Great is the mystery of godliness! The most
precious mysteries is the greatest of all mysteries.
Neither in man, nor in angel, nor in any other crea-
ture, is there such a combination of what appear irre-
concileable properties, such harmonizing of what seems
discordant, such blending and bringing together of the
peculiar characteristics of distinct and different orders,
as in " the mystery of godliness." In his person, and
character, and work, our Lord Jesus Christ presents
what is explicable, and, to my mind, credible, on no
theory but one, that he was God manifest in the flesh,
Emmanuel, God with us. Indeed, I should find it,
I think, an easier thing to deny the divinity of the
Bible, than, having admitted that, to reject the divinity
of our Lord. To illustrate this extraordinary conjunc-
tion of apparently conflicting elements found in him.

1. Look at our Lord by the grave of Lazarus.
How truly man, partaker of our common nature!
The sight of the tomb wakens all his grief ; the suffer-
ings of these two sisters, clinging to each other, touch
his loving heart ; and there he stands, for ever sanc-
tioning sorrow, and even exalting it into a manly,
most noble thing. His eyes swim in tears, groans
rend his bosom ; he is so deeply, so uncontrollably, so
visibly affected, that the spectators say. See how he
loved him ! Jesus wept. So it was some moments
ago. But now, what a change ! The crowd retreat,
surprise, wonder, terror seated on every face ; the

280 THE BEGINNING.

boldest recoiling from that awful form which comes
shuffling out of the grave. This man of tears, so gen-
tle, so tender, so easily moved that he often wept,
endued with a sensibility so delicate that tlie strings
of his heart vibrated to the slightest touch, has, by a
word, rent the tomb. Struck with terror, the witch
of Endor shrieked when she saw the form of Samuel
emerging from the ground ; what a contrast this scene
to that ! Not in the least surprised at the event, as if,
in raising the buried dead, he had done nothing more
remarkable than light a lamp or rekindle the embers
of an extinguished fire, calm and tranquil, Jesus points
to Lazarus, saying. Loose him, and let him go.

2. Look at Jesus by Jacob's well. There a woman
who has come to draw water about mid-day, finds a
traveler seated. She looks at him. He is brown
with the dust of a journey ; he looks pale, and worn,
and weary ; the hot sun beats upon his head. He
accosts her, saying, Give me to drink ! And in grant-
ing it — for woman seldom refuses kindness to the
needy — she fancies, no doubt, that this is some poor
Jew, whose haughty pride bends to necessity in asking
the meanest favor from a Samaritan. So lie seemed,
when, gratefully acknowledging her kindness, he bent
his head, and drank deep draughts of tlie cool refresh-
ing water. But, wlien he has raised his eyes to look,
not into her face, but into her heart, and to read off,
as from a book, its most secret thoughts, and, altliough
they had never met before, to tell her all, to use her
own words, that she had ever done, with what wonder
does she regard him? She is amazed and awed.
Well she might. The thirsty way-worn man has sud-
denly changed into the omniscient God.

THE BEGINNING. 281

Thus, the incommunicable attributes of Divinity,
and tlie common properties of humanity stand out
equally clear in our Lord's life and person. And just
such a conjunction of things apparently irreconcileable
presents itself to our attention in the description given
of Jesus Christ in this verse. In this clause, he is
described by a term sacred to God ; we pass on to
the next, and step at once from the throne of the hea-
vens down into a grave. In these words, " the be-
ginning," we behold him presiding at the creation of
the universe ; by those which follow, " the first-born
from the dead," we are carried in fancy to a lonely
garden, where, all quiet within, Roman sentinels keep
watch by a tomb, or where, as they fly in pale terror
from the scene, we see him who had filled the eternal
throne, and been clothed with light as with a garment,
putting off a shroud, and leaving a tomb. What key
is there to this mystery, what possible way of har-
monizing these things, but this, that Christ, while
man, was more than man, one who has brought together
properties so wide apart as dust and divinity, time and
eternity, eternal Godhead and mortal manhood ? What
comfort to us, as well as glory to him, in this com-
bination ! Should it not dissipate every care and fear,
to think that our Saviour, friend, and lover, has the
heart of a brother and the hand of God ?

Let us now consider that clause of this verse in which
our Lord is called " the beginning."

I. This term expresses liis divine nature.

I have read a story of a blind man, who, determined
to rise above his misfortune, and to pursue knowledge
under the greatest difficulties, set himself to study the
nature of light and colours. This much he had learned,

282 THE BEGINNING.

that, wliilc these differ in intensity, it is tlie red-col-
oured ray that glares strongest on the eye. He flat-
tered himself tliat he had at length mastered a subject
which must remain forever more or less of a mystery
to one, as he was, born blind ; and so, when asked
what he thought red was like, he replied — evident
satisfaction at his acquirements lighting up his sight-
less face — that he fancied it like the sound of a trumpet.
Though we may smile at an answer so wide of the mark,
his difificulty in describing colours is more or less ours
in describing God. It were easier for these fingers to
close upon the world, for this hand to hold the great
globe within its grasp, than for any finite mind to com-
prehend the infinite fulness of God. " It is high, I
cannot attain unto it." " He stretcheth out the north
over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon
nothing. By his Spirit he hath garnished the heavens,
his hand hath formed the crooked serpent. Lo, these
are part of his ways ; but how little a portion is heard
of him ? but the thunder of his power, who can under-
stand?"

Just as that blind man borrowed terms from sounds
to express the objects of sight, and therefore did it
very imperfectly, even so, familiar only with wliat is
visible, palpable, finite, we have to borrow terms from
these things to describe the invisible, tlie God who is
encased in no body, and confined within no boundr?.
And as I have seen a fixther, to make a tiling plain to
his little child, take the boy on his knee, and, forgetting
his own learning, dropping all correct and philosophi-
cal language, speak to the child after tlie manner of
a child, so our lieavenly Father condescends to speak
of himself to us. Did he make the heavens and tlie
earth? They arc the work of his hands. Docs ho

THE BEGINNING. 283

rule the storm ? He holds the winds in his fist. Are
those tremendous powers of nature, the earthquake and
the volcano, obedient to his will ? Like conscious
guilt in presence of her judge, the earth trembles at
his look, and at his touch the mountains smoke. Does
he constantly w^atch over his people? As a kind
mother's eye, whatever be her task, follows the move-
ments of her infant, so that if it fall she may raise it,
or if it wander too near the fire, the cliff, or the brink
of a stream, she may run to pluck it out of danger,
God's eyes run to and fro throughout the whole earth,
to show himself strong to tliem w^iose hearts are per-
fect towards him. Does it thunder ? It is the voice
of the Lord ; the lightning cloud that comes driving
up the sky is his chariot, and when flasli blazes upon
flash, his arrows go abroad. His presence is now an
eye, now a hand, now an arm, and now a shield. His
love is a kiss, his anger is a frown. Are his mercies
withdrawn ? He repents. Are they restored ? He
returns. Does he interpose in any remarkable way ?
He plucks his hand from his bosom, and, like one who
goes vigorously to work, the blacksmith who wields
the hammer, or the woodman who plies the axe,
he makes bare his arm. And wlien inspiration,
attempting one of her loftiest flights, seeks to express
tlie greatness of his majesty, she turns the heavens into
a sapphire throne, spangled all with stars, and taking
up this great globe rolls it forward for God to set his
feet on. " Thus saith the Lord, the heaven is my throne,
and the earth is my footstool." Thus, by terms bor-
rowed from our bodies, and properties, and circum-
stances, God describes himself, and among other
instances of that kind, there is one wliere he employs
the very term here applied to Jesus in my text. For

284 THE BEGINNING.

the purpose of teacliing us that he is before all, that he
is the cause and the end of all, with such condescension
as a father shows to his little children, he takes the
Greek alphabet, and selecting the first and the last
letters, as those within which all else are included, he
says, " I am Alpha and Omega, the beginnmg and the
ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and
which is to come, the Almighty."

He must be God who is almighty. He must be God
who is, and was, and is to come ; and since " the
beginning " is another title applied in that passage to
the same august, and infinite, and adorable Being, by
applying it to our Lord, Paul pronounces him divine,
and around the head which was once pillowed on a
woman's bosom, and once bowed in death upon a cross,
he throws a halo of uncreated glory. A man wor-
shipped in heaven ; a babe adored on earth ; the infant's
advent sung by angels ; sable night throwing off her
gloom, and breaking into splendour above his manger-
cradle ; one whom many well remembered, as if it were
but yesterday, carried in Mary's arms or playing with
the boys of Nazareth, now claiming to be older than
Abraham ; his step on the water lighter than a shad-
ow's, his voice on the waters mighty as God's ; the
prompt obedience of unruly elements ; the sullen sub-
mission of reluctant devils, as they retired back, and
farther back before tliat single man, like a broken
band retreating in the face of an overwhelming force ;
the hand that was nailed to the cross freely dispensing
crowns of glory, and opening the gates of heaven to a
dying thief ; the earth trembling witli horror, and tlie
sun turned mourner because they were murdering their
Lord ; the adoring admiration of the great apostle
who, contemplating an infant cradled in a manger, a

THE BEGINNING. 285

man hanging on a bloody tree, a tomb and its lonely
tenant, found heaven too low, and hell too shallow, and
space too short, to set forth the greatness of the love
that gave the Saviour to die for us ; these marvels,
otherwise utterly inexplicable, have their key in " the
mystery of godliness;" Jesus Christ was " God mani-
fest in the flesh." What a precious truth ! The blood
of Calvary being, as Paul calls it, the blood of God,
may well have virtue in it to cleanse from all sin, so
that though our sins be as scarlet, they shall be white
as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be
as wool.

II. This term, " the beginning," expresses Christ's
relation to his church and people.

The beginning of a tree is the seed it springs from.
The giant oak had its origin in the acorn. From
that dry, hard shell, sprung the noble growth that
laughed at the storm, in the course of time covered
broad acres with its ample shade, and built the ship
that, with wings spread to the wind, flies under a
Bethel flag, to bear the gospel to lieathen lands, or,
opening her ports, rushes on the bloody slave-s]iip, and
fights the battle of humanity on the rolling deep. Now,
as a seed, Jesus Christ was one apparently of little
promise. According to the prophet, he was, in tlie
eyes of men, a root out of a dry ground. He was all
his lifetime despised and rejected ; yet out of liim lias
grown that church which shall bear the blessings of
salvation to the ends of the earth, and pursue her
bloodless, victorious course, till continents and islands
have knelt at his feet. All the kingdoms of this world
shall become the kingdoms of our Clirist.

A house, again, begins at the foundation. The first

286 THE BEGINNING.

stone laid is the foundation stone. That nia/ be sunk
in a deep, dark hole ; yet though it lies there, unseen
and forgotten by the thoughtless, it is the stability and
support of all the superincumbent structure. And
when the nails were drawn, and the mangled body of
our Lord was lowered from the cross, and received
into women's arms, and borne without any funeral
pomp by a few sincere mourners to the lonesome tomb,
and, amid sobs, and groans, and tears, and bitter griefs,
laid in that dark sepulchre, then did God in heaven
say, " Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation stone, a
tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation.
Yes, it was a tried stone. He had been tried by men
and devils, and by his Father too ; hunger, and thirst,
and suffering, and death, had tried him. Since then
the foundation has often been tried, in great tempta-
tions, and sore afflictions, and fierce assaults of the
Evil One ; winds have blown, and rains have fallen,
and rivers have swelled, and heavy floods have rolled,
but the man wlio has believed in Christ, and the hopes
that have rested on his finished work, have stood firm
and unmoved. Saints triumphing over temptation,
martyrs singing in prison, believers dying in peace,
devils baffled, hell defeated, have made good Christ's
words, Upon this rock I will build my church ; and
the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.

The author of our faith, the founder of his church,
Christ began it ere the world began, or sun or stars
shone in heaven. He provided for the fall before the
event happened. He had the life-boat on the beach
before the bark was stranded, or launched, or even
built. Not eighteen hundred years ago, when tlic
cross ros3 with its bleeding victim higli above the
heads of a crowd on Calvary, not the hour of the Fall,

THE BEGINNING. 287

when God descended into the garden to comfort our
parents, and crush, if not then the head, the hopes of
the serpent, but eternal ages before these events saw
the beginning of the church of Clirist. He began it
in the councils of eternity, when, standing up before
his Father to say, Lo, I come (in the volume of the
book it is written of me) to do thy will, 0 God, he
offered himself a substitute and a sacrifice for men.
He was " the Lamb slain from the foundation of the
world."

The author then, and, when he died on Calvary, the
finisher of our faith.

ni. Jesus is " the beginning'' of salvation in every
individual believer.

He is " all our salvation." We owe everything to
Christ. Whatever was the instrument employed in our
conversion, whether a silent book, or a solemn provi-
dence, or a living preacher, it was his grace that began
what had a beginning, but, tlianks be to God, never
shall have an end ; the health that never sickens, the
life that never dies, the glory that never fades. By
his Spirit convincing us of sin, and revealing himself
to us as a willing and all-sufficient Saviour, he began
it at conversion ; he carries it on tlirough sanctifica-
tion ; and he crowns it in glory. The preacher was a
man but drawing a bow at a venture. Jesus ! it was
thine eye that aimed the shaft, and thy strength wliich
bent the bow that day the arrow stuck quivering in
our heart. When our sins were carrying us out to our
burial, it was thou that didst stop tlie bier, and with
thy touch impartedst life. Brought by the prayers of
others to the grave, where we lay corrupting in our
sins, it was thy voice that pierced the car of death, and

288 THE BEGINNING.

brought us alive from the dead. Having none in
heaven or on earth but thee, thou hast been all in all
to us. In thy birth our hopes were born, in thy death
our fears expired, in thy sepulchre our guilt was buried,
the sufferings of thy cross were natal pangs, and to us
and millions more thy grave has been the pregnant
womb of life.

The " beginning," and therefore " the author," Jesus
is the finisher of our faith. He does no half work,
half saving or half sanctifying a man. Trust him,
that where he has begun a good work, he will carry it
on to the end. What would become of us if he did
not ? Blessed Lord I but that thy hand sustained me,
how often had hell received me ? but that thy faithful-
ness did not fail with my faith, but that thy goodness
did not ebb with my gratitude, but that thy love of me
did not wane with my love of thee, how often had I
perished ? How often have I been as nearly damned
as Simon was nearly drowned in the deep waters and
stormy waves of Galilee ? How great, 0 Lord, has
been thy mercy towards me ; thou hast brought up my
soul from the lowest hell !

We know that men have turned this doctrine to a
bad purpose, just as to a bad purpose many turn the
best gifts of providence. But it is no reason why the
children should be starved tliat dogs sometimes steal
their meat. The man who presumes on tliis doctrine
to continue in sin because grace abounds, affords in his
very presumption the plainest, strongest evidence that
he never has been converted — just as the falling star
by falling proves that it never was a true star, never
was a thing of heaven, though it seemed to shoot
through the stellar regions, and by a train of light
illumined its dusky path, never was other than an at-

THE BEGINNING. 289

mospheric meteor, " of the earth, earthy." The best,
indeed, in a sense, will fall, and do often fall ; but he
who rises from his falls, whose sins are the occasions
of bitter sorrow, whose peace is the child, and whose
faith is the parent of love, can, I believe, no more drop
out of Christ, than a true, God-made star, can drop
out of heaven. He will keep that which God has
committed to him. He will perfect that Avhich con-
cerneth them.

How can it be otherwise ? He is ever near to them
that call upon him, and that never can happen to them
which befell a child who had heedlessly wandered
from its mother's side. She sought her darling all
round her cottage, and wherever lie had been wont to
play. Alarmed, she rushed into the gloomy forest that
grew by her moorland home ; she called ; in frantic
terror, she shrieked his name. No answer ; he was a
lost child. A child lost ! the tidings spread like wild-
fire through the hamlet ; and some leaving business,
others pleasure, the country-side rose for the search ;
and through that weary night, glen and mountain,
moor and den, rung with the shouts, and gleamed with
the lights of anxious searchers. The coming morn
ushered in the Sabbath, but brought no rest. Believ-
ing that mercy was better than sacrifice, and that had
He who came to seek and save the lost been there, He
would have led the way, they resumed the search ; and
for the first time the feet of piety turned from the
house of God. But all in vain. Now hope was burn-
ing low even in the mother's breast, and the stoutest
hearts were sinking, when a woman, guided doubtless
by God to the spot, heard a feeble cry, a low moaning
sound. One thrill of joy, one bounding spring, and
there, with its dying face to heaven, lay the poor lost
13

290 THE BEGINNING.

child before her on the cold ground, its young life ebb-
ing fast, as it faintly cried, " Mother, mother ! " It
was saved, yet how nearly lost ; and nearly lost be-
cause it had wandered far from a mother's ear and a
mother's eye. Its danger is never ours. From Christ
no darkness hides, no distance parts us ; and through
whatever dangers his people have to pass, though tliey
but turn the brink of the pit, the very edge of hell,
though their escapes are so narrow that the righteous
scarcely are saved, he will make good his words, I
give unto them eternal life ; and they shall never
perish.

The first-bom from the dead ; that in all things he might have the
pre-eminence. — Colossians L 18.

Death is an event we do not attempt to shut out of
view. Here, our city has its cemeteries, which, by their
taste and beauty, rather attract than repel a visit.
There, where hoary trees fling their shadow on graves,
stands th ^ rural church, within whose humbled walls
the living worship in closest neighborhood with the
dead ; a ^ype of heaven, the approach to that sanctu-
ary is by a path which passes through the realms of
death. When death occurs among us, friends and
neighbors are invited to the funeral ; and in broad day
the sad procession, following the nodding hearse,
wends slowly along our most public streets. The spot
that holds our dead we sometimes visit, and. always
regard as a sort of sacred ground ; there a monument
is raised to record their virtues ; or a willow, with its
weeping branches flung over the grave, expresses our
grief ; or a pine or laurel, standing there in evergreen
beauty when frosty blasts have stripped the woods,
symbolises the hopes of the living, o.nd the immortality
of the dead ; our hand plants some sweet flowers,
which though they shed their blossoms as our hopes
were shed, and hide their heads awhile beneath the

(291)

292 TUE FIRST-BOKN FROM THE DEAD.

turf, spring up again to remind us how the dear ones
who there sleep in Jesus are awaiting the resurrection
of the just.

I have read of a tribe of savages that have very dif-
ferent customs. They bury their dead in secret, by
the. hands of unconcerned officials. No grassy mound,
no memorial stone guides the poor mother's steps to
the quiet corner where her infant lies. The grave is
levelled with the soil ; and afterwards, as some to
forget their loss drive the world and its pleasures over
their hearts, a herd of cattle is driven over and over
the ground, till every trace of the burial has been ob-
literated by their hoofs. Anxious to forget death and
its inconsolable griefs, these heathen resent any allusion
to the dead. You may not speak of them. In a mo-
ther's hearing, name, however tenderly, her lost one,
recall a dead father to the memory of his son, and there
is no injury which they feel more deeply. From the
thought of the dead their hearts recoil.

How strange ! How unnatural ! No, not unnatural.
Benighted heathen, their grief has none of the allevia-
tions which are balm to our wounds, none of the hopes
that bear us up beneath a weight of sorrows. Their
dead are sweet ilowers withered, never to revive ; joys
gone, never to return. To remember them is to keep
open a rankling wound, and preserve the memory of a
loss which was bitter to feel and still is bitter to think
of ; a loss which brought only grief to the living, and
no gain to the dead. To me, says Paul, to live is
Christ, and to die is gain. They know nothing of
this ; nothing of the hopes that associate our dead in
Christ with sinless souls, and sunny skies, and shining
angels, and songs seraphic, and crowns of glory, and
harps of gold. Memory is only a curse, from which

THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 293

they seek relief by removing the picture from the cham-
bers of their imagery, or turning its face to the wall.

Without the hope of a better world, apart from
mercy, pardon, grace and glory, through the blood of
Jesus Christ, what were death to me, or to any, but an
object of unutterable gloom ? I shrink from seeing it.
With all the strong consolations of the gospel, ah !
what sight so bitter as to see a loved one dying ; our
sweet flower withering day by day on its drooping
stalk ; the cold shadow of death, like an eclipse, creep-
ing over the whole horizon of our being, till, one hope
after another disappearing, the case assuming a gloomier
and yet gloomier aspect, we are left, but for the inner
light of the Spirit and God's truth, in blank despair?
As we hang over the dying couch or cradle, how it
wrings the heart to see the imploring look turned on
us, and we can give no relief ; to hear the low mean-
ings, and we cannot still them ; and when the struggle
is long protracted, to be forced to pray that God in
mercy would drop the curtain, and close this dreadful
scene. There is no event so terrible as death. There
is no sound so awful as that last sigh. There is no
coldness feels so chill to the hand as the brow or face
of the dead. And when, in place of one full once of
light, and life, and love, our arms embrace a pale, clay-
cold corpse, when, for the smiling face, childhood's
pattering feet, and prattling tongue, and bright spark-
ling eye, and merry laughter, we have nothing but that
solemn countenance, that rigid form, that marble brow,
that cold clammy hand, that silent tenant of a lonef^ome
room, beside whom we tread with noiseless step, and,
as if afraid to disturb their slumbers, speak in hushed
whispers, and with bated breath, verily death needs all
the consolations that reliofion can administer.

2^ THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD.

Apart from the hopes of a better and a brighter
world, to one's self, also, what is death but an unutter-
able evil ? What weary hours, and days, and nights,
are often preludes to the closing scene. And tliat
scene ! what terrible sufferings may we have to endure,
and others have to witness in our dying chamber?
How may they resemble those appalling struggles amid
which the dying man seemed to us to be doing battle
with an invisible enemy, who had him by the throat,
and whom he was trying, but in vain trying, to throw
off ? Steps he into a palace or a hovel, Death, without
any question the King of Terrors, presents the features
of a tremendous curse in that ghastly countenance, the
fixed and filmy eyes, the restless head, the wild tossing
of the arms, the hands that, as if they sought something
to cling to, clutch the bed-clothes, the muttering lips,
the wandering mind, the deep insensibility, the heavy
breathing, the awful pauses, and that long-drawn, shiv-
ering sigh, which closes the scene, and seems to say, as
the departing spirit, ere it quit the bounds of time,
casts one last look on all that is past and gone, Yanity
of vanities, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.

Solomon pronounces a living dog to be better than
a dead lion ; and I say, better be a living beggar than
a dead king. I love life : I love to walk abroad and
see the sun shine, and hear the birds sing, and wander
by rippling stream, or sit on banks where sweet flowers
grow ; I love the homes where I look on happy faces
smiling, receive welcome greetings, and hear kind voices
speaking. To have all these shut out, to be nailed up
in a narrow coffin, to be buried in tlie dull earth, to
moulder amid silence into dust, to be forgotten, and,
when fires are cheerily blazing on our own hearth, and
Bongs and laughter by their merry ring tell how broken

THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 295

hearts are sound again, to think of ourselves lying cold,
and lonely, and joyless in the tomb, are not things we
love to dwell on. Our Lord himself shrank from
death ; he cast himself at his Father's feet, to cry in an
agony. If it be possible let this cup pass from me. And
who, unless some unhappy wretch, courts death, wishes
to die, to lie down among those naked skulls, and the
grim unsocial tenants of the grave ? Faith herself
turns away from the thought. Standing on the edge
of the grave, she turns her eye upward ; and, leaving
the poor body to worms and dust, she wings her flight
heavenward, follows the spirit to the realms of bliss,
and loves to think of the dead as living ; as not dead ;
as standing before the Lamb with crowns of glory, and
bending on us looks of love and kindness from their
celestial seats. Yes ; death needs all the comforts that
religion can summon to our aid.

Nor has Christ left his people comfortless. By his
life, and death, and resurrection, he has fulfilled the
high expectations of prophets ] nor, bold as it is, is the
language too lofty which Hosea puts into his mouth,
0 death, I will be thy plagues ; 0 grave, I will be thy
destruction. The death of Death, the life of the grave
and greatest of all its tenants, he has conquered the
conqueror of kings ; he has broken the prison, he has
bound the jailer, he has seized the keys, and he comes
in the fullness of time to set all his imprisoned people
free. They are prisoners of hope. He will bring
back his banished. He has entered into glory as their
forerunner, or, as my text calls him, " the first-born
from the dead."

Let us consider in what respects Christ is " the first-
born from the dead."

296 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD.

I. He is so in the dignity of his person. He is the
greatest who ever entered, or shall ever leave, the
gates of death.

In one of the boldest flights of fancy, Isaiah sets
forth the destruction of the Babylonian monarchy.
He sees a mighty king descending into the grave,
breaking its awful silence. His footsteps disturb the
dead ; they raise themselves in their coffins ; and as
he enters alone the dark domain of a monarch might-
ier than himself, on his ear fall the voices of kings
long buried, muttering. Art thou also become as we ?
Art thou become like unto us ? When we die we sink
into the grave like raindrops into the sea, as snow-
flakes alight on the water ; for however man's death
may for a little agitate some living circles, it never
stirs the dead. But Jesus Christ being the Lord of
glory, the fountain of life, the creator of the sun that
darkened over his cross, and of the moon that shed
her silver light on his lonely sepulchre, his descent into
the tomb was an event which might well be set forth
in the prophet's magnificent imagery. I can fancy all
the dead astonished at his coming ; and that, as he
enters the domain of the grave, a spirit-voice breaks
its silence, saying, " It is moved for tliee to meet thee
at thy coming ; it stirreth up the dead for thee, even
all the chief ones of the earth ; it hath raised up from
their thrones all the kings of the nations. All they
shall speak and say unto thee. Art thou also become
weak as we ? Art thou become like unto us ?"

Fancy some great, good, brave, patriotic monarcli,
bound in chains, and after being ignominiously paraded
through the public streets, thrust into the common
gaol, to exchange the glory of a palace for the gloom

THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 297

and shame of a dungeon. How would such an event
impress the spectators with the mutability of earthly
greatness ! And were such a reverse of fortune borne
out of love to his subjects, how would it win their
admiration, how would it move their love as well as
pity ! Yet, what were such an event to that which
unnoticed by the world, is passing in yonder garden,
where by the waning light of day two men and a
group of weeping women, amid silence broken only
by sobs and soft whispers, are laying a dead body on
a hurriedly prepared bed of spices ? Nor man's, nor
angel's eyes, had ever looked on a scene so wonderful.
Solomon had said. Will God in very deed dwell with
men on the earth ? but what would Solomon have
said, had he seen the young child in the manger,
still more, had he seen the lonely tenant of that tomb ?
Whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain, here a
sepulchre holds. Repulsive to the eye as are these
skulls and mouldering bones, the grave boasts of having
held some nights within its chambers one who, while
he honored lowly cottages with his visits, was greater
than any whom palaces have opened to receive. The
language of the prophet is literally accomplished.
The regions of death were moved at Jesus' coming.
Never before, never since, has the opening of these
gates awakened those within. They sleep too sound
for that. How unmoved do parents lie when their
children are laid by their side ; the mother never flings
her arms about the dear babe that death restores to
her bosom ; and to the cry of room, room, the unman-
nerly beggar stirs not to make way for a king. They
neither revere the good, nor respect the great. They
feel no love there ; and, unlike the burst of joy, the
rushing into each other's embrace, the smiles, the tears,
13*

298 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD.

when the loving and long parted meet again on earth,
how cold and dreary the reunions of the grave, these
silent meetings of the dead !

But Christ's descent into the tomb roused death
from its deepest apathy. That awoke those who are
heedless of the shock of earthquakes. The dead were
moved at his coming. The graves were opened. The
inspired poet's fancy became a literal fact. And,
waiting for him to lead the way, many dead saints
left the tomb on the morning of his resurrection ; in
them he led captivity captive, and was followed by
the strangest train that ever graced the triumph of a
returning conqueror. If we should certainly conclude
that the jailer has been beaten and bound, when we see
the captives pouring from the open prison, how plainly
do those yawning tombs, untouched by mortal hand,
and these dead men, who return alive to Jerusalem,
show that the long reign of death is drawing to a
close, and the oldest of earth's kingdoms tottering to
its fall. Their escape plainly proved that death had
received from Christ's hand, what no other hand could
deal, a mortal blow. Thus, all the circumstances that
signalized alike our Lord's descent into the tomb and
his triumphant resurrection, proclaim him, as with the
sound of royal trumpets, the first and greatest of the
dead.

II. Because he rose by his own power.

There is no sensibility in the dead. The eyelids
your fingers have closed open no more to the light of
day. The morning raises up all within the house to
a fresh sense of bereavement : without, it wakens busi-
ness, pleasure, the music of skies and groves ; but it
wakens not the sleeper in thaf looked and lonely

THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 299

chamber, who, once dreading to be left alone, is alike
fearless now of darkness and of solitude.

There is no passion in the dead. The sight of them
affects us, not our grief and sorrow them ; as well kiss
marble as that icy brow ; our tears will flow, nor does
Christ forbid them ; but their hottest gushes thaw not
the fountains that death has frozen.

There is no power in the dead. The cold hand you
lift drops ; the poor body lies as it is laid. And, so
soon as that last, long sigh is drawn, though the color
still lingers on the cheek, and the. limbs are not yet
stiffened into cold rigidity, they can rise no more than
the ashes on the hearth can resume their original form,
and change into what once they were, a branch green
with leaves, and decked with fragrant blossoms. The
dead can do nothing to help themselves. In all cases
but Christ's resurrection, life was not resumed, but
restored ; it was given, not taken back. At the grave
of Lazarus it proceeded from Christ's lips, wafted on
the air to the ear of death. At the gate of Nain it
passed from Christ's hand, streaming, like the electric
fluid, into the body of the widow's son. And there,
where Elisha lies stretched on the Shunammite's dead
boy, his eyes on the child's eyes, his hands on the
child's hands, his lips on the child's lips, that prostrate,
praying man forms a connecting medium by which life
flows out of Him in whom is its fulness, to fill a vessel
that death has emptied. And, at the last day, we our-
selves shall not awake, but be wakened, roused from
sleep by the trump of God, as, blown by an angel's
breath, it sounds throughout the world, echoing in the
deepest caves of ocean, and rending the marble of the
tomb.

Now look at our Lord's resurrection. He rose in

300 THE FIRST-BOEN FKOM THE DEAD.

the silent night ; no hand at the door, no voice in his
ear, no rough touch awaking him. Other watchers
than Pilate's soldiers stood by the sepulchre ; but these
angels whom it well became to keep guard at this dead
man's chamber door, beyond opening it, beyond rolling
away the stone, beyond looking on with wondering
eyes, took no part in the scenes of that eventful morn-
ing. The hour sounds ; the appointed time arrives.
Having slept out his sleep, Jesus stirs ; he awakes of
his own accord ; he rises by his own power ; and
arranging, or leaving attending angels to arrange, the
linen clothes, he walks out on the dewy ground, be-
neath the starry sky, to turn grief into the greatest
joy, and hail the breaking of the brightest morn that
ever rose on this guilty world. That open empty
tomb assures us of a day when ours too shall be as
empty. Having raised himself, he has power to raise
his people. Panic-stricken soldiers flying the scene,
and Mary rising from his blessed feet to haste to the
city, to rush through the streets, to burst in among the
disciples, and with a voice of joy to cry, He is risen,
He is risen ! prove this was no vain brag or boast,
*' I lay down my life that I might take it again. No
man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself.
I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take
it again."

III. Because he is the only one who rose never to
die again.

The child of the Shunammite, the 'daughter of the
ruler, the widow of Nain's son Lazarus, and all .the
saints who followed our Lord from the grave, were
prisoners on parole. The grave took them bound to
return. Dear-bought honors theirs!

THE FIRST BORN FROM THE DEAD. 801

and Elijah never tasted death, these twice drank the
bitter cup ; witli one cradle, each had two coffins ; one
birth, but two burials ; and thus, that God might be
glorified, suffering pains from w^hich obscurer saints
liave been exempt, they in part fulfilled the noble say-
ing of that dauntless martyr, w^ho declared his love
for Christ to be such, that if he had as many lives as
he had gray hairs on his head, he would lay them all
down for him. These honored ones were out on bail.
After a while they retraced their steps ; and, now lying
in dusty death, they wait the summons of the resurrec-
tion. But Jesus waits to summon, not to be summoned.
The grave holds them, but heaven holds him. For
heaven, as well as hell, was moved at his coming ; and
there, saints adoring, angels worshipping at his, feet,
in the very body which was stretched on the cross and
laid in the sepulchre for us, he fills his Father's throne.
The King of kings and Lord of lords is " He who
liveth and was dead."

TV. Because he has taken precedence of his people,
who are all to rise from their graves to glory.

It is better for me, if I am a poor man standing in
need of royal favors, to have a friend at court than in
my own humble cottage ; and it is better for us that
Christ is with his Father in heaven than with his peo-
ple on earth. It is expedient for you, he said, that I
go away. He has gone to prepare a place for us ; and
while his Spirit has come down to take care of the
business of his church on earth, he looks after and
watches over its afi^airs in heaven. He had work to
do which could not otherwise be done. He that keep-
eth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. So, after
three days' unbroken rest, he rose to sleep no more,

802 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD.

and be the first-born of the dead. Apart from that,
precedence was his right. It belonged to him in the
very nature of things. The king precedes his train ;
the head rises first out of pit or grave, afterwards the
body and its members ; the foundation stone is laid
first, afterwards the stones of the superstructure ; the
elder brother breaks first from a mother's womb, after-
wards the children of whom he is forerunner.

It is as the prelude of our own resurrection, that
Christ's is to us the object of the greatest satisfaction
and joy. In these cast-off grave clothes, in that linen
shroud and napkin, there is more to draw our eyes,
and fix our interest, and move our admiration, than in
the jewelled robes or royal purple of the greatest
monarch of earth. That empty tomb, roughly hewn
in the rock, is a greater sight than Egypt's mighty
pyramids, or the costliest sepulchres that have received
the ashes of the proudest kings. How full of meaning
is its very emptiness I What good news to us in
Mary's disappointment ! What joys flow to us in these
women's tears ! Thanks be to God, tliey could not
find him. He is not there. No, Mary I they have
not taken away your Lord ; no robber has rifled that
sacred tomb. See, the dew lies sparkling on the grass,
nor feet have brushed it but those of one who has left
the grave. He is risen ; and, as the first fruits of them
that sleep, as the first ripe sheaf that was offered to
the Lord, his resurrection is the pledge and promise of
a coming harvest. Henceforth the grave holds but a
lease of the saints. Because he rose, we shall rise
also.

Sweeter to our ear than the full chorus of bright
skies and greenwood, are the first notes of the warbler
that pipes away the winter, and breaks in on its lonjj^,

THE FIRST-BOEN FROM THE DEAD. 303

drear silence ! And more welcome to our eye than the
flush of summer's gayest flowers, is the simple snow-
drop that hangs its pure white bell above the dead
bare ground. And why ? These are the first-born of
the year, the forerunners of a crowd to follow. In
that group of silver bells that ring in the spring with
its joys, and loves, and singing birds, my fancy's eye
sees the naked earth clothed in beauty, the streams,
like children let loose, dancing, and laughing, and
rejoicing in their freedom, bleak winter gone, and
nature's annual resurrection. And in that solitary
simple note, luy fancy hears the carol of larks, wild
moor, hillside, and woodlands* full of song, and ringing
all with music. And in Christ, the first-born, I see
the grave giving up its dead ; from the depths of the
sea, from lonely wilderness and crowded churchyard
they come, like the dews of the grass, an innumerable
multitude. Risen Lord ! we rejoice in thy resurrec-
tion. We hail it as the harbinger and blessed pledge
of our own. The first to come forth, thou art the
elder brother of a family, whose countless numbers the
patriarch saw in the dust of the desert, whose holy
beauty he saw shining in the bright stars of heaven.

The first-born ! This spoils the grave of its horrors,
changing the tomb into a capacious womb that death
is daily filling with the germs of life. The first fruits !
This explains why men called the churchyard, as once
they did, God's acre. Looking at these grassy mounds
in the light of that expression, the eye of faith sees it
change into a field sown with the seeds of immortality.
Blessed field ! What flowers shall spring there ! What
a harvest shall be gathered there ! In the neighbor-
ing fields " whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also
reap ;" liut here how great the difference between what

304 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD.

is sown amid mourners' tears, and what shall be reaped
amid angels' joys ; between the poor body we restore
to the earth, and the noble form that shall spring from
its ashes. Who saw the rolling waves stand up a
rocky wall ; who saw the water of Cana flow out rich
purple wine ; who saw Lazarus's festering corpse, with
health glowing on its cheek, and its arms enfolding
sisters ready to faint with joy, saw nothing to match
the change the grave shall work on these mouldering
bones. Sown in corruption, they shall rise in incorrup-
tion, mortal putting on immortality. How beautiful
they shall be I Never more shall hoary, time write age
on a wrinkled brow. T!ie whole terrible troop of dis-
eases cast with sin into hell, the saints shall possess
unfading beauty, and enjoy a perpetual youth ; a pure
soul shall be mated with a worthy partner in a perfect
body, and an angel form shall lodge an angel mind.
There shall be no more death, nor sighing, nor sorrow,
for there shall be no more sin.

If we are reconciled to God through Jesus Christ,
what reconciling views of death does this open up to
us ? Why don't we think better of death, and oftener
of death ? No doubt his hand is rough, and his voice
is gruff, and, rudely seizing us by the throat, as if he
were an officer and we were the prisoners of justice,
he has none of the courtly manners of Eleazer when
he went to bring his bride home to Isaac ; yet why
should those things make us overlook so much the glit-
tering crown he brings in his grisly hand, the message
he brings us to come away home. We should be much
happier if we familiarised our minds with this event,
and trained ourselves to think of death more as glory
than as death, as our return to our Fatlier and our
Father's house, as going home to be with Jesus and

THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD. 805

the saints ; or, if you will have death in, as the death
of all sin and sorrow, as the death of Death. To a
child of God, what are its pains but the pangs of birth;
its battle, but the struggle that precedes the victory ;
its tossings but the swell and surf that beats on the
shores of eternal life ; its grave but a bed of peaceful
rest, where the bodies of saints sleep out the night that
shall fly away for ever before the glories of a resurrec-
tion morn. I know a churchyard where this is strik-
ingly set forth in the rude sculpturing of a burial stone.
Beneath an angel figure, that, witli outstretched
wings and trumpet at the mouth, blows the resurrec-
tion,, there lies a naked skull. Beneath tlie angel, and
beside this emblem of mortality, two forms stand ; One
is the tenant of the grave below, the other it is impos-
sible to mistake, it is the skeleton figure of the King
of Terrors. His dart lies on the ground broken in
two, and the hand that has dropped it is stretched oit
over the skull, and held in the grasp of the other
figure. Enemies reconciled, the man bravely shakes
hands with death, and his whole air and bearing show
that they are become sworn friends. As if he had just
heard Jesus announcing, I am the resurrection and the
life, you seem to hear him saying, 0 death where is
thy sting, 0 grave where is thy victory ? The sting
of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law ; but
thanks be to God who giveth me the victory through
my Lord Jesus Christ.

We shall rise like Him who, in his own resurrection,
and in the church he has redeemed Vv-ith liis own blood,
and in the universe he created by his own power, has
the preeminence, the unchallenged preeminence. Let
him have it in our thoughts, our lives, our hearts.
Who but he should have it ? Holy Spirit ! enable us

806 THE FIRST-BORN FROM THE DEAD.

to enthrone in our hearts him whom his Father hath
enthroned in the heaven of heavens. Preeminence !
Shall we give it to the world that hated him, to the
devil that tempted him, to the sins that crucified him ?
Gracious God, forbid ! Let Jesus have the preemin-
ence I Help us, Lord, to love thee best, to serve thee
first, to follow thee, leaving all to follow thee. If, in
one sense, we cannot say, Whom have I in heaven but
thee, because there we may have father and mother,
brother and sister, and sweet children whom we loved,
and love still, and will rejoice again to embrace, we
would say. Thou art the chiefest among ten thousand,
thou art altogether lovely. If, in one sense, we cannot
say. There is none upon earth that I desire beside thee,
we would say, there is none on all the earth that I
desire before thee, nor deem equal to thee. Blessed
Lord, thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love
of women. To thee, as the sun of my firmament, may
the moon and stars make obeisance ; to thee, as the
needle to its pole, may my trembling heart be ever
turning ; to thee, as the waters seek the ocean, may
my desires be ever flowing. Bend every sheaf to
Joseph's ! Jesus, the best be thine, the honor thine,
the glory thine, the kingdom thine. The feast to thee,
the fragments to others. This ever be my question,
not What can I spare from myself for Christ, but
What can I spare from Christ for myself? Be thou
preferred above my chief joy. In all things have thou
the preeminence I

It pleased the Father, that in Him should all fullness dwell. —
Colossi ANS i. 19.

Our happiness depends in a very small degree upon
what is external to us. Its springs lie deep within ;
like those waters that, warm in winter and cold in
summer, have their fountains bordered with evergreen
grass. Yet, how common it is to think otherwise !
Hence the keen pursuit of pleasure, lovers' sighs, war's
fierce ambition, the student's patient labor as he feeds
his midnight lamp with the oil of life, the panting race
for riches, the desperate struggles some make to keep
themselves from sinking into poverty, and the toil and
trouble others endure, to say nothing of the sins which
these may alike commit, to rise in the world, as it is
called — to keep a- better table, to wear a better dress,
to live in a better house than satisfied their humble,
but happier parents. These paths, crowded and beaten
down though they be by the feet of thousands who are
treading on each other's heels, never yet conducted any
man to happiness. Never. It lies in another direc-
tion. Whatever be his condition, be he poor or rich,
pining on a sick bed or with health glowing on his
cheek, to be married or to be hanged tomorrow
" Blessed," or, as we should say, Happy, " is he whose
transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed

(307)

308 THE FULLNESS.

is the man unto whom the Lord impute th not iniquity,
and in whose spirit there is no guile."

The way to happiness does not lie in attempting to
bring our circumstances up to our minds, but our minds
down to our circumstances. Many birds wear a finer
coat than the lark, nor is there any that dwells in a
lowlier home ; yet which of the feathered songsters
soars so high, or sings so merrily, or teaches man so
well how to leave the day's cares and labors for the
bosom of his family, as when, neither envying the pea-
cock his splendid plumage, nor the proud eagle her
lofty realm, it drops singing into its grassy nest, to
caress its young, and with its wings to shield them
from the cold dews of night ? To indulge an unsanc-
tified and insatiable ambition, to attempt to bring our
circumstances up to our minds, is to fill a sieve with
water, or the grave with dead, or the sea with rivers.
The passions that in such a case seek gratification, are
like that wretched drunkard's thirst ; they burn the
fiercer for indulgence, and crave for more the more
they get. It is often difficult, I grant, to bring our
minds down to our circumstances, but he attempts not
a difficult, but an impossible thing, who attempts to
bring his circumstances up to the height of his ambi-
tion. Nature, says the old adage, is contented with
little, grace with less, lust with nothing. And ours be
the happiness of him who, content with less than little,
pleased with whatever pleases the Father, careful for
nothing, thankful for anything, prayerful in everything,
can say with Paul, I have learned, in whatsoever state
I am, therewith to be content.

Before directing your attention to tlie fullness that
is in Christ, let me embrace the opportunity which the
expression offers of exhorting you. -

THE FULLNESS. 309

I. To be pleased with whatever pleases God.

I have read of an Italian who had learned that diffi-
cult lesson so well, that all who witnessed his magnani-
mity, under the most adverse fortunes, stood astonished.
He recalled to men's minds the grand saying of an old
heathen, that a good man struggling with adversity
was a sight for the gods to look at. It was not that
his natural temper was too sweet to be soured or too
phlegmatic to be moved ; nor was it that, like a cold-
blooded animal, he did not feel the iron when it entered
his soul. No. He felt it keenly, and bore it bravely ;
and the secret of his tranquil, heroic patience lay in
these four things. First, he said, I look within me,
then without me, afterwards beneath me, and last of
all, I look above me.

First, he looked within him ; and what saw he
there? Corruption, guilt, so much unworthiness, as
led him to conclude that he deserved no good thing at
the hand of God ; and that, therefore, whatever bles-
sings his calamities had left to him, were more than he
had any right to expect. We write our blessings on
the water, but our afflictions on the rock. Those are
forgot, these are remembered ; and yet, if we turn
away our eyes from our trials, and look back on our
lives and in upon our hearts, how would that check
each rising rebellious murmur ? Gratitude would
temper our grief ; and though we might continue to
mourn, we should say with David, I will sing of mercy
and judgment ?

Next, he looked without him, and there he saw, what
you all may see, many more severely tried than him-
self ; thousands in point of merit not more unworthy,
yet in point of 'circumstances much more unhappy.

310 THE FULLNESS.

Would it not help to clear away the vapours, and
rebuke the discontent, and improve the temper of some
grumblers among us, were they now and then to visit
the sad abodes of wretchedness and poverty ? It
would certainly teach them how thankful they ought
to be that they are not as many are, and how thankful
many would be to be as they are. Have I not seen
many a poor wretch in this world who would gladly
change places with those of you that are most weary
of your burdens, and almost weary of your life. How
Ijas it reconciled us to the discomforts of a cold, blus-
tering storm on land, to think of the poor seamen who
were tossing on the deep in dread of shipwreck, or
hanging on by the shrouds, or whelmed in the ocean,
their last prayer washed from their lips, their cries for
help drowned in the roar of breakers. When we lay
stretched on a bed of sickness, with kind faces around
us, angels, as it were, ministering to our wants, it has
helped to reconcile us to the weary pillow to think of
them who, far from home, lay bleeding on the battle-
field, none near to raise their drooping head, or to
answer their dying cry of " water, water !" And when
death, unwelcome visitor, entered our home, ah I the
one coffin felt less heavy, when, looking on sweet ones
left, we thought of dwellings that the spoiler liad, or
had all but desolated. Such a thought has calmed tlie
troubled breast, and said to murmuring passions. Peace,
be still. It is with its potent spell that in this humble
cottage a pious peasant approaches a mother who,
wringing her hands, hangs in wild, frantic, terrible
grief, over the body of her dead babe ; by the wild-
ness of her passion, as a vehement wind beats down the
sea, calming the grief of others. Laying her hand
kindly on her shoulder, she says, with eyes full of tears,

THE FULLNESS. 311

and a voice trembling with emotion, " Hush, Mary ;
you have but one pair of empty little shoes to look on.
Be you thankful. I have six of them." And, when
most severely tried, and all God's billows seem to be
going over us, besides feeling that we are visited with
far less than our iniquities deserve, we have only to
look abroad to see that our afflictions are fewer than
those which many others suffer.

He looked next beneath him. And there, to his
fancy's eye, lay his grave ; a green grassy mound, six
feet of earth ! How foolish it seemed to repine over
the loss of broad lands, when so small a portion of this
earth was all he soon would need, and all, though
stretched out at his full length, he could occupy ! That
man blunts the keen edge of misfortune, who meets its
stroke with the thought, that when it does its worst, it
cannot strip him so bare as death shall the most pros-
perous and envied of men ? Adversity, at the worst,
but takes time by the forelock, and, by a few brief
years, anticipates the hand of the greatest spoiler, in-
exorable death. We came into the world naked infants,
and we shall go out of it as naked. We brought noth-
ing into this world, and it is certain we can carry
nothing out. The men of fortune shall not carry
away a penny of their gains, nor the men of fame so
much as one leaf of their laurel crowns. When life's
play in all its acts is over, and the curtain drops, and
the lights are put out, and the stage is deserted, its
kings, queens, priests, soldiers, peasants, statesmen,
dropping their distinctive characters, must all return
to one common level. There is one event to all. And
let us remember that it shall be with us as with those
actors on the stage whom men applaud, not because
of the parts they play, but of the way in which they

812 THE FULLNESS.

play them. Well done from God, well done from
Christ, well done from the tongues of ten thousand
angels, shall crown the life of a good servant, but not
the life of a bad sovereign. God has no respect for
persons, but will reward every man, not according to
his place, but according to the way he filled it. Ho
shall reward every man according to his work.

He looked last of all above him, and saw his home
in heaven. And how should that glorious prospect
sustain us under our severest trials ! To that refuge
our thoughts may always fly ; and as there is no pit so
deep but it has that opening over head, though it may
be dark below and all around, it is always bright above
us. Let the world reel and shake, let banks break, let
sudden changes whelm affluence into the lowest depths
of poverty, let convulsion succeed convulsion, till the
stateliest fabrics and firmest fortunes are hurled into
the dust, how blessed at such a time to know that
heaven is sure. No tempests sweep its sea of glass.
Up there it is calm when it is stormy here ; up there
it is clear when it is cloudy here ; up there it is day
when it is darkness here ; nor are those realms of bliss
any more affected by the events of earth, than are the
stars of tlie firmament by the earthquakes that shake
our world, or the thunders that shake our skies. By
considerations like these we should strengthen our
minds, and give them that firmness of texture which
shall preserve us from devouring cares, as solid, close-
grained oak is preserved from those insects that eat
out the heart of softer woods. Let God give his
blessing to such thoughts, and they will enable a Chris-
tian man to meet evil as the mountain crag looks out
on the approaching storm.

Yet the Italian's explanation of his equanimity under

THE FULLNESS. 313

afflictions to which all of us are exposed, and against
which, therefore, we do well to be fortified, does not
bring- out the grandest secret of a calm, resigned,
happy spirit ; the secret of a patriarch's unparalleled
patience and of a prophet's dauntless courage. That
lies not so much in looking within, or looking without,
in dropping our eye on the grave, or raising it to the
crown, as in looking to God. The brightest light that
falls on our trials issues from his throne. That changed
the whole aspect of Job's afflictions, and hence, his
well-known exclamation, The Lord gave, and the Lord
hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord.
And what also but a sight of God inspired the courage
witli which the prophet eyed the approach of misfor-
tune, defying it as a man on a rock defies the swelling
billows of an angry sea. " Although the fig tree shall
not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the
labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield
no meat ; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and
there sliall be no herd in the stalls : yet I will rejoice
in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation."

Extravagant as that may sound in the ears of some,
it is the language of a calm, sober, solid faith. ' For
what in reason should hinder him who sees in God a
Father, and believes that all events proceed from his
hand, and are managed by his wisdom, and are prompted
by his love, from kissing the rod, and saying, Father,
not my will, but thine be done ; from taking the cup
and draining it to the bitterest dregs. We have per-
fect confidence in his wisdom and in his love ; and we
only do him the justice which we would expect from
our own children when we believe that he doth not
afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men, nor
ever chastens but in love. His was a noble saying
U

314 THE FULLNESS.

who, when his crops were rotting in flooded fields, and
ruin stared him from the scowling heavens, and other
men cursed the weather, on being asked his reason for
saying that it pleased him, replied. It pleases God to
send it, and whatever pleases him pleases me. That
sounds like an echo of the old prophet's voice ; and
we are ready to envy a man whose faith could triumph
over such great misfortunes. Yet why should we not
lie as calmly in the arms of God's providence as w^e
lay in infancy on a mother's breast ? Having an ever-
living, an everlasting, an ever-loving fatlier in God,
how may we welcome all providences ; and, drawing
some good from every evil, as the bee extracts honey
even from poisoned flowers, how may we say, " Our
light affliction, which is but for a moment, workcth for
us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory !"
Sweetly submissive to the will of God, shall it not fare
with us as with the pliant reeds that love the hollows
and fringe the margin of the lake, and bending to the
blast, not resisting it, raise their heads anew, unliarmed
by the storm that has snapped the mountain pine, and
rent the hearts of oak asunder ? The joy of the Lord
is our strength.

Let us now consider that which, while it pleased
God, will certainly please all his people,

11. The fullness that is in Christ.

Within the palace, but without the throne-room of
Shushan, Queen Esther stands. They Avho enter the
king's presence unsummoned do it at the peril of their
life ; and resolved in a good cause to dare the penalty,
she stands there with her jewelled foot upon the grave.
A noble spectacle ! not so mucli for her unrivalled
beauty, still less for tlie splendour of her apparel, ag

THE FULLNESS. 815

for the resolution to venture life^ and either save her
nation or perish in the attempt. In her blooming
jouth, in the admiration of the court, in the affections
Ox her husband, in her lofty rank, in her queenly hon-
ours, she has everything to make life attractive. Ilers
is a golden cup ; and it is foaming of pleasures to the
brim. But her mind is made up to die ; and so, with
a silent prayer, and " if I perish, I perish," on her lips,
she passes in, and now stands mute and pallid, yet calm
and resolute outside the ring of nobles, to hear her
doom. Nor has she to endure the agony of a long sus-
pense. Her fate, which seems to tremble in the balance,
is soon determined. No sooner does the monarch
catch sight of the beautiful woman, and brave and good
as beautiful, -whom he had raised from slavery to share
his bed and throne, tlian her apprehensions vanish.
The clouds break ; and slie finds, as we often do with
Christ, that lier fears have wronged her Lord. In-
stantly his hand stretches out tlie golden sceptre ; the
business of tlie court is stopped ; the queen, the queen !
divides tlie crowd of nobles ; and up that brilliant
lane she walks in majesty and in charms that- outvie
her gems, to hear the blessed words, What wilt thou,
Queen Esther? and what is thy request? it shall be
even given thee to the half of the kingdom.

What wilt thOu, Queen Esther ? is but an echo of
the voice which faith catches from the lips of Jesus ;
and the whole scene presents but a dim, imperfect image
of that which heaven presents when the gate rolls open,
and angels and archangels making way for him, a be-
liever enters with his petitions. Was that beautiful
woman once a slave ? So was lie. In lier royal mar-
riage was lowliness allied to majesty ? So it is in his
union by faith with Jesus Christ. And as to her r

316 thp: fullness.

apparel, the diadem, the cloth of gold bedecked with
sparkling gems, in which her maids have attired their
mistress, why, in the righteousness that clothes, and
the graces of the Spirit that adorn him, the believer
wears a robe, which wins the admiration, not of men's,
but angels' eyes, and shines even amid the glories of
a city whose gates are made of pearls, and whose
streets are paved with gold. To the half of his king-
dom, the Persian promised whatever his queen might
ask ; and generous, right-royal as was his offer, it helps
us by its very meanness, as a molehill at the foot of a
mountain, as a taper's feeble, yellow flame held up
against the blazing sun, to form some estimate of the
boundless grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Half his
kingdom ! He offers nothing by halves. His promise
is illimitable. All mine is thine. Confining his gen-
erosity neither to kingdoms, nor continents, nor worlds,
nor heaven itself, he lays the whole universe at a poor
sinner's feet. Away then with fears and cares ! There
is nothing we need that we shall not get, nothing we
can ask that we shall not receive. It pleased the
Father that in him should all fullness dwell. Trans-
ferring divine wealth, if I may so speak, to our account
in the bank of heaven, and giving us an unlimited
credit there, Jesus says. All things, whatsoever ye ask
in prayer believing, ye shall receive.

In regard to Christ's fullness, I remark —

1. That there is all fullness of mercy to pardon in
him.

Dead flics cause tlie ointment of the apothecary to
send forth a stinking savor, so, says Solomon, dotli a
little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and
honor. Such great mischief can little things do. One

THE FULLNESS. 817

small leak will sink the biggest ship that ever sailed
the ocean ; one bad link in the chain she rides by, and
parting from her anchor, she is hurled on the horrid
reef or driven before the fury of the tempest ; and even
one little wedge left carelessly on the slips arrests her
progress when the signal is given, and eager crowds
are waiting to cheer the launch, and the bosom of the
sea is swelling to receive her into its arms. And had
there the smallest doubt expressed in the Bible about
the fullness of pardoning mercy, had it not been made
clear as noon-day that the blood of Christ cleanseth
from all sin, from sins as well of the deepest as of the
lightest dye, what a stumbling-block would that have
been ! I believe that it would have arrested the steps
of thousands now happy in Christ, or now safe in
heaven, as they went to throw themselves at his feet
and cry, Lord, save us, we perish.

But there is no such doubt. A herald of the cross,
I stand here in my master's name to proclaim a uni-
versal amnesty. When the last gun is fired, and par-
don is proclaimed in reconquered provinces, is it not
always marked by some notable exceptions ? When
the sword of war is sheathed, the sword of justice is
drawn, only to be returned to the scabbard after it is
filled with blood. Men say that they need not look
for mercy in the hour of retribution, who wreaked
ruthless vengeance on helpless women, nor had pity on
sweet tender babes. But from the pardon of redeem-
ing mercy there are none excepted, unless those, who,
by refusing to accept it, except themselves. Are you
unjust ? Christ Jesus died, the just for the unjust.
Are you sinners ? He came not to call the righteous,
but sinners to repentance. Are you the vilest of the
vile ? He never lifted his foot, when he was on this

318 THE FULLNESS.

earth, to spurn the guiltiest away. TTe pitied whom
others spurned ; he received whom others rejected ; he
loved whom others loathed. Let the vilest, meanest,
most wretched outcasts, know that tliey have a friend
in him. A mother's door may be shut against them,
but not his. It was his glory then, and it is his glory
still, to be reproached as the friend of sinners. He
faced contumely to save them ; he endured death to
save them. And be you groaning under a load of
cares or guilt, of sins or sorrows, kind and gracious
Lord ! he says. Come unto me all ye that labor and
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, " which also
leaned on his breast at supper," and lingered by his
cross, and was entrusted with the care of his mother,
and more than any of the others enjoyed his master's
intimacy and knew his mind, says, not as one who
balances his language, and carefully selects his words,
lest he should compromise and commit his master too
far, " If any man sin, we have an advocate with the
Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous :" adding, " and he
is the propitiation for our sins ; and not for ours only,
but also for the sins of the wliole world." The wliole
world 1 ah I some would say, that is dangerous lan-
guage. It is God's language. It binds a zone of
mercy around the world, and perish the hand that
would narrow it by a hair's breadth. Beneath his
grace in Christ, as beneath that ample sky, there is
room enough for all the men and women in the wide
world. None shall be damned but they who damn
themselves. What were it but to make God a liar,
should we doubt that our sins can be pardoned, ay,
and shall be pardoned, if we seek their forgiveness ?
Within its widest shores the vast ocean has its bounds,

THE FULLNESS. 819

and so has tlie far-travelling sun within his orbit : but
this pardon is confined within no limits of time, or age,
or guilt, or class, or character, and is clogged with no
conditions but that you accept it.

One might fancy that now all are certain to be saved.
Who will not accept of it? Offer a starving man
bread, he will take it ; offer a poor man money, he will
take it ; offer a sick man health, he will take it ; offer
an ambitious man honor, he will take it ; offer a life-
boat in the wreck, a pardon at the gallows, oh ! how
gladly he will take them. Salvation, which is the one
thing needful, is the only thing man will not accept.
He will stoop to pick up a piece of gold out of the
mire, but he will not rise out of the mire to receive a
crown from heaven. What folly ! AVhat infatuation !
May God by his Spirit empty our hearts of pride, and
take away the heart of unbelief ! Yain here is the help
of man. Arise, 0 Lord, and plead the cause that is tliine
own. Break the spell of sin, and help us to say with
the man of old, Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief!

2. There is all fullness of grace to sanctify in Christ.

" My leanness ! my leanness ! " is a lamentation which
God's people, as well as the old prophet, have often
used in mourning over their spiritual condition. It
may be very low, very sad ; presenting the contrast of
a soul famished, and a body luxuriously fed ; increase
of earthly, but a diminution of sacred joys ; at the
year's end more money in the bank, but less grace in
the heart ; the tide of worldly fame flowing, and the
tide of God's favor ebbing ; gardens, and orchards, and
woodlands, and the fields of nature, green, gay, and
beautiful, but barrenness of soul within ; graces wither-
ing, prayers dull, faith weak, love cold, desires feeble,

320 THE FULLNESS.

spiritual appetite failing ; much to alarm the saint, and
send him to liis knees crying, My soul cleavetli to the
dust, quicken thou me according to thy word.

But why is it, why should it be so ? Why burns the
virgins' lamp with such a flickering flame ? Why runs
the stream of grace so small, shrunk to the size of a
summer brook ? Why are the best of us no better, no
holier, no happier, than we are ? Hath God forgotten
to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his tender
mercies ? No. The supplies are not exhausted, nor is
the fountain empty ; nor is our Father fallen into
poverty, that his children are so scantily supplied, and
have to go about meanly begging a share of the world's
enjoyments. It is easy to know why many poor chil-
dren in this city come to have misery stamped on their
young faces, and look as if they had never smiled in
this world, nor found this world smiling on them ; a
tyrant rules at home, harsh, stern, cruel, forbidding.
Hapless creatures, they wander shoeless and shivering
on our frosty streets, and with hunger in their hollow
cheeks, and beggary hung on their backs, they hold out
their skinny hands for charity ; their father is poor, or
dead, or, worse than dead, the base slave of a most
damning vice, a drunkard, from whose imperious voice
they fly, whose reeling step they tremble to hear. But
what have God's children to do with unhappy looks ?

God is love. Fury is not in me, saith the Lord.
With him is fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore.
What do you wish or want? Go tell it to your Father.
They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.
Can he who justified not sanctify ? Can he who en-
listed us under his holy banner not provide munitions
of war enough to secure, though there may be a hard
fight for it, the final victory ? Can he who led the

THE FULLNESS. 321

march out of Egypt not beat down our foes, and con-
duct our triumphant way through a thousand dangers
and oyer a thousand difficulties on to the promised
land? Oh, yes ; there is all efficiency and sufficiency
in Jesus Christ to crown the work of grace, and to
complete what he has begun. There is his Holy Spirit
to sanctify you ; there are stores of grace whicli, like
the widow's barrel that grew no emptier for all the
meals it furnished, will appear the fuller the more you
draw on them. As with an arch, the grace of God
stands the firmer, the more weight you lay on it ; its
sufficiency, at least, will be the more evident ; the more
clearly you will see the truth of the promise, My grace
is sufficient for thee. With the well eyer full and ever
flowing, our vessels need never be empty. Whether,
therefore, you want more faith, more purity of heart
or peace of mind, more light or love, a humbler or a
holier spirit, a calmer or a tenderer conscience, a live-
lier sense of Christ's excellences or of your own un-
worthiness, more tears for Christ's feet or more honors
for his head, fear not to draw, to hope, to ask, too
much. No earthly fortune will stand daily visits to
the bank, but this will. You may ask too little, you
cannot ask too much ; you may go too seldom, you
cannot go too often, to the throne ; for in Jesus dwell-
eth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily.

III. Tliere is a constant supply of pardoning and
sanctifying grace in Christ.

It pleased the Father that in him should all fullness
diuell ; dwell, not come and go, like a wayfaring man
who tarrieth but a night, who is with us to-day, and
away to-morrow ; not like the shallow, noisy, treach-
erous brook that fails, when most needed, in heat of
14*

822 THE FULLNESS.

summer, but like this deep-seated spring, that rising
silently though affluently at the mountain's foot, and
having unseen communication with its exhaustless sup-
plies, is ever flowing over its grassy margin, equally
unaffected by the long droughts that dry the wells, and
the frosts that pave the neighboring lake with ice.
So fail the joys of earth ; so flow, supplied by the full-
ness that is in Christ, the pleasures and the peace of
piety. It cannot be otherwise. If a man love me,
says Jesus, he will keep my words ; and my Father
will love him, and we will come unto him, and make
our abode with him.

I have read how, in the burning desert, the skeletons
of unhappy travellers, all withered and white, are found,
not only on the way to the fountain, but lying grim
and ghastly on its banks, with their skulls stretched
over its very margin. Panting, faint, their tongue
cleaving to the roof of their mouth, ready to fill a
cup with gold for its fill of water, they press on to
the well, steering their course by tlie tall palms that
stand full of hope above the glaring sands. Already,
in fond anticipation, they drink where others had been
saved. They reach it. Alas ! sad sight for the dim
eyes of fainting men, the well is dry. With stony
horror in their looks, how they gaze into the empty
basin, or fight with man and beast for some muddy
drops that but exasperate their thirst. The desert
reels around them. Hope expires. Some cursing,
some praying, they sink, and themselves expire. And
by and by the sky darkens, lightnings flash, loud
thunders roll, the rain pours down, and, fed by the
showers, the treacherous waters rise to play in mockery
with long fair tresses, and kiss the pale lips of death.

But yonder, where the cross stands up high to mark

THE FULLNESS. 323

the fountain of the Saviour's blood, and heaven's sanc-
tifying grace, no dead souls lie. Once a Golgotha,
Calvary has ceased to be a place of skulls. Where
men went once to die, they go now to live ; and to
none that ever went there to seek pardon, and peace,
and holiness, did God ever say. Seek ye me in vain.
There are times when the peace of God's people, al-
ways like a river, is like one in flood, overflowing its
margin, and rolling its mighty current between bank
and brae. There are times when the righteousness of
God's people, always like the waves of the sea, seems
like the tide at the stream, as, swelling beyond its
ordinary bounds, it floats the boats and ships that lie
highest, driest on the beach. But at all times and
seasons, faith and prayer find fullness of mercy to par-
don, and of grace to sanctify, in Jesus Christ. The
supply is inexhaustible.

Mountains liave been exhausted of their gold, mines
of their diamonds, and the depths of ocean of their
pearly gems. The demand has emptied the supply.
Over once busy scenes, silence and solitude now reign ;
the caverns ring no longer to the miner's hammer, nor
is the song of the pearl-fisher heard upon the deep.
But the riches of grace are inexhaustible. All that
have gone before us have not made them less, and wo
shall make them no less to those who follow us. When
they have supplied the wants of unborn millions, the
last of Adam's race, that lonely man, over whose head
the sun is dying, beneath whose feet the earth is reel-
ing, shall stand by as full a fountain as this day in-
vites you to drink and live, to wash and be clean.

I have found it an interesting thing to stand on the
edge of a noble rolling river, and to think, that
although it has been flowing on for six thousand years,

824 THE FULLNESS.

watering the fields, and slaking the thirst of a hundred
generations, it shows no sign of waste or want ; and
when I have watched the rise of the sun, as he shot
above the crest of the mountain, or in a sky draped
with golden curtains, sprang up from his ocean bed, I
have wondered to think that he has melted the snows
of so many winters, and renewed the verdure of so
many springs, and painted the flowers of so many sum-
mers, and ripened the golden harvests of so many
autumns, and yet shines as brilliant as ever, his eye not
dim, nor his natural strength abated, nor his floods of
light less full for centuries of boundless profusion.
Yet what are these but images of the fullness that is
in Christ? Let that feed your hopes, and cheer your
hearts, and brighten your faith, and send you away
this day happy and rejoicing. For, when judgment
flames have licked up that flowing stream, and the
light of that glorious sun shall be quenched in dark-
ness or veiled in the smoke of a burning world, the
fullness that is in Christ shall flow on throughout eter-
nity in the bliss of the redeemed. Blessed Saviour,
Image of God, divine Redeemer ! in thy presence is
fullness of joy ; at thy right hand there are pleasures
for evermore. What thou hast gone to heaven to pre-
pare, may we be called up at death to enjoy I

And, having made peace through the blood of his cross, by him to
reconcile all things unto himself. — Colossians i. 20.

The salutations that pass between man and man
differ in different countries. Boaz, for example, goes
out to see his reapers. The field is flashing with sick-
les ; the tall corn is falling to the sweep of young
men's arms, and to maidens' songs ; and gleaning on
behind them come widows, and orphans, and little
cliildren, all made welcome to share the bounties of
providence and the fullness of a good man's cup. A
busy, joyous, crowded harvest-field, where brown labor
piles her healthful task in a bright autumn day, is one
of the most pleasant scenes a man can look on ; though
now-a-days we not only miss the gleaners, but also
that kindly, pious intercourse between master and
servants which lent a peculiar charm to Bethlehem's
harvests. Boaz moves on from band to band, and, as
each stops to do him reverence, he says. The Lord be
w4th you, and, meet reply to such pious and courteous
language, they answer, The Lord bless thee. Without
undervaluing the progress which the world has made
since then, in arts and science, in wealth and tlie more
general diffusion of the pleasures and comforts of life,
surely it has not been all gain. It is difficult to look

(326)

326 THE RECONCILER.

back without some regret on those happy days when
children played, and no ragged orphans pined, in the
streets, when manners were simple, and people were
guileless, and the rich were kind to the poor, and the
poor did not scowl upon the rich, and nobody was
trodden on or neglected, and no wide yawning gulf
separated the highest from the lowest classes of the
community.

The ordinary salutation of the East, however, was
one of peace. It is so still. Seated on his fiery steed
and armed to the teeth, the Bedouin careers along the
desert. Catching, away in the haze of the burning
sands, a form similarly mounted and similarly armed
approaching him, he is instantly on the alert ; for life
is a precarious possession among these wild sons of free-
dom. His long spear drops to the level ; and grasping
it in bis sinewy hand he presses forward, till the black
eyes that glance out from the folds of his shawl recog-
nise in the stranger one of a friendly tribe, between
whom and him there is no quarrel, no question of
blood to settle. So, for the sun is hot, and it is far to
their tents, like two ships in mid-ocean, they pass ;
they pull no reign, but sweep on, with a "Salem
Aleikum," Peace be unto you. Like their flowing
attire, the black tents of Kedar, the torch procession
at their marriages, this salutation is one of the many
stereotyped habits of the East. Throughout the Holy
Land and the neighboring countries, the modern trav-
eller hears the old salutation, fresh and unchanged, as
if it were but yesterday that David was a fugitive in
the wilderness of Paran, and sent this message to that
rude, surly, niggard churl, with whom Abigail, " a
woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful
countenance," was unhappily mated. Peace be both to

THE RECONCILER. 327

thee, and peace be to thine house, and peace be unto
all that thou hast.

Beautiful as this custom is, like the fragrant wall-
flower that springs from the mouldering ruin it adorns,
it sprung from an unhappy condition of society. Why
peace ? Because frequent wars, sudden interruptions
of hostile tribes, made the people of these lands sigli
for peace. Hence their habit of expressing their
kindly feelings to each other in the wish that they
might have peace ; a blessing which many had not,
and which they who had might not long enjoy. War
does not take us unawares. We see the black storm-
cloud gathering before it bursts ; and by prudent
policy we may avert it, or, if it be inevitable, prepare
bravely to meet it. But this course of humanity, this
dreadful scourge fell on the villages and cities of these
countries with the suddenness of the sea-squall that
strikes the ship, and, ere time is found to reef a sail
or lower a boat, throws her on her beam-ends, and
sends her, crew and cargo, foundering into the deep.
Look at the case of Job ; camels, cattle, sheep and
servants gone, he is reduced in one short day from
affluence to the most abject poverty. One morning
the sun rises in peace on Abraham's tents ; and ere
noon or nightfall they are ringing with cries to the
rescue ; in wild confusion children are crying, women
are weeping, and men are arming ; there is hot haste
to mount and away ; and, with two hundred retainers
at his back, Abraham scours the country, raising it as
he goes, to deliver Lot and his family from the hand
of the spoilers. Three days ago, David and his fol-
lowers left Ziklag, sweet peace brooding over the quiet
scene ; and where is Ziklag on their return ? They
come back, but not to happy homes ; they are silent, a

328 THE RECONCILER.

mass of smoking ruins ; no wife hastens to embrace
her husband, no child runs to climb its father's knee ;
the red-handed spoiler has been there ; their mountain
nest has been harried ; and, appalled at the desolation,
these stout-hearted men burst into frantic grief, weep-
ing till, as the Bible says, they can weep no more.
Looking at these scenes, it is easy to understand how
the most kind and common greeting in such countries
was Peace be unto you.

Though the practice would ill accord with our con-
ventional manners, that have often more of art than of
nature, I think, considering the day, the place, the pur-
pose of the assembly, it were a beautiful and appro-
priate thing, when ministers and people meet in the
house of God, to meet after the manner of Boaz and
his people ; the minister, on appearing in the pulpit,
saying The Lord be with you, and the people respond-
ing The Lord bless thee. Our vine and fig-tree are
good laws, a free government, a home around which
the sea throws her protecting arms, and a stout people
who fear God and honor the king. Thus preserved
from the fears of those countries, we have not learned
their fashions. Yet when we ransack these sunny
lands for gay flowers to adorn our gardens, why should
we not transplant some of their beautiful habits ?
While others introduce offensive novelties into the
pulpit, as if the gospel required such wretched aids, he
would follow the footsteps, and give utterance to the
spirit of Jesus, who, boldly breaking the ice of our
cold customs, should meet his people on the morning
of the blessed Sabbath with his master's salutation,
Peace be unto you.

With these words our Lord, on returning from the
grave, accosted his disciples. Nor on his lips were

THE RECONCILER. 829

they mere words of course, the ordinary courtesies of
life. How well did they suit tlie occasion ! The bat-
tle of salvation has been fought out, and a great vic-
tory won ; and in that salutation Jesus, his own herald,
announces the news to an anxious church. Passing
into that upper room which holds it, passing through
the barred and bolted door which protects it, he sud-
denly appears among them. He has fulfilled the
anthem with which angels sang his advent, and ushered
him into this distracted, guilty world. Though he
had to recal her J from heaven, where she had fled in
alarm at the Fall, or, rather, had to seek her in the
gloomy retreats of death, he brings back sweet holy
Peace to earth. And hastening to tell them the good
news, the glad tidings of great joy, he proclaims it in
the words. Peace be unto you. He shows them his
hands, with the nail-marks there ; he uncovers his side
with the spear-scar there ; and when the disciples are
gazing through streaming eyes on these affecting love-
tokens, his heart swells, fills, overflows with tender-
ness, and, as if he could never tire of saying it, nor
they of hearing it, he bends over them to say again
and again. Peace be unto you.

Suppose that, instead of descending, like dews, in
those gracious but silent and unseen influences of the
Spirit, that people should pray for and preachers should
trust to, our Lord were to come in person, appear in a
visible form, and reveal his glory to every eye, how
would he address us ? I believe that he would bring
from heaven the very salutation which he brought from
the grave. As he looked around on those he had pur-
chased with his blood, and renewed by his grace, I can
fancy him breaking the deep silence, and stilling the
heart-throbbings, and dissipating the sudden terrors

830 THE RECONCILER.

which a vision might produce, with the old gracious
words, Peace be unto you. And what a load would
that take off some hearts ; what a calm, like his voice
on Galilee, would it impart to some troubled minds ;
what a gracious answer would it bring to some earnest
prayers I To hear his own voice, however, to behold
his blessed face, to be assured of forgiveness from his
own lips, these are joys reserved for heaven. Yet
with strong, though childlike faith in exercise, the next
best thing is to be assured, as we are assured in my
text, that peace has been made, and that God, for the
purpose of reconciling us to himself, has made it
through the blood of Christ's cross.

I. The text implies that by nature man is at enmity
with God.

So says the apostle Paul. Nor is it possible to lay
down that doctrine more clearly or more strongly than
he does in these remarkable words, " The carnal mind
is enmity against God." He does not say that it is in
a state of enmity. Not at all ; for states and frames
may undergo change, and are variable as wind or
weather. As God is love, so the carnal mind is enmi-
ty ; this being so much the nature, essence, element c""
its existence, that if you took away the enmity, it
would cease to be ; enmity being the breath of its life,
the very marrow of its bones. From such a view of
the heart, from so hideous a picture some start back ;
they hesitate to believe it, while others plainly, indig-
nantly deny it. Pointing us to a beautiful, sweet,
angel-like child, as with open brow and unclouded face,
it bends at a mother's knee, and, lifting its little hands
to heaven, repeats from her gentle lips its evening
prayer, they ask who can fancy that creature to be

THE RECONCILER. 331

enmity against God ? True. But who would fancy,
as it twines its arms around a motlier's neck, and kisses
her, and sings itself asleep on her loving bosom, that
the day can ever come when it will stab that bosom,
and these little hands will plant wrongs sharper than
a dagger in her bleeding heart ? Yet that happens.
And many things else happen that you would never
fancy. The purpje bells of the nightshade change
into poisonous berries ; the cold, dull flint sends out
sparks of burning fire ; the viper that lay quiet in the
" bundle of sticks '' is aroused by the heat, and leaps
from the flames to fasten on an apostle's hand.

Sins, like seeds, lie dormant till circumstances call
them into active existence. Aware of that, Satan
knew right well what he was saying when, in reply to
God's praise of his servant Job, he said with a sneer,
" Doth Job fear God for nought? Hast thou not made
an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all
that he hath on every side ? thou hast blessed the work
of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land.
But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he
hath, and he will curse thee to thy face." And so
the good man had done, but for restraining grace.
What a burst of pent-up passion, lib? the fic-y erup-
tion of a volcano, breaks the seven days' awful
silence, " Let the day perish wherein I was born, and
the night in which it was said. There is a man child con-
ceived ; let that day be darkness. Why died I not
from the womb? Why did the knees prevent me?
Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and
life unto the bitter in soul ; which long for deatli, but
it Cometh not ; and dig for it more than for hid trea-
sures ; which rejoice exceedingly and are glad when
they can find the grave ?" Here Job curses the day

832 THE RECONCILER.

that he was born ; and he who curses God's provi-
dence has to take but another step, and he curses God
himself. But that a divine arm had borne his burden,
but that a divine hand curbed his passions, that woman,
raging like a bear bereaved of her whelps, would have
had no occasion to reproach him for his tame submis-
sion. No. He had vented curses, if not as loud, per-
haps, like the river where it flows, sullen and black,
more deep than hers ; and, standing side by side over
a grave big with bodies and with griefs, they had
raised their hands together against the heavens, and
flung back their life at him who had embittered it.
But for the grace of God Job had been no pattern of
patience. And let the grace, which both sustained
and restrained him, be withdrawn from any of us, and
our natural enmity and corruption would break out
after such a fashion as would astonish ourselves, shock
the ears of the public, and lead many to hold up their
hands to exclaim. Lord, what is man !

This enmity is a doctrine into which the believer
does not need to be reasoned. He feels it. He reads
its evidence elsewhere than in the Bible ; he reads it
in his own heart. He, who knows himself, knows it.
Breaking out like old sores, the sins of heart, and
speech, and conduct, by which it makes itself manifest,
are his daily pain, and fear, and grief. Other soldiers
have easy times of peace, when swords rust idly in
their sheaths, and the trumpet sounds but for parade.
Not he. There is never a day but he has to fight this
enmity to the holy will and sovereign ways of God.
His life is a long battle and a hard battle ; and, like a
soldier tired of war, though true to his colors, he often
wishes that it were over, as, overcome of evil, and
vexed with himself, he throws himself on his knees to

THE RECONCILER. 333

cry, Create in me a clean heart, 0 God, and renew a
right spirit within me, Be merciful unto me, 0 God,
be merciful unto me. Purge me with hyssop, and I shall
be clean ; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

This enmity is a thing, whose existence is taken for
granted in the language of my text ; for what need
can there be to make peace between God and man if
they are friends already ? Does not the making peace
between two nations imply that they had been stand-
ing to each other in the relation of antagonists, not
of allies ? Not friends required to be reconciled, but
foes. When, with tabard and trumpet, royal heralds
proclaim the peace, and cannon roar, and church-bells
ring, and bonfires blaze, and bright illuminations turn
night into day, in that darkened house, where the
shouts of the crowd fall heavy on a widow's heart,
who clasps her children in her arms, or where a father
and mother are weeping over a bloody lock of their
soldier boy's hair, they know too Avell that war went
before the peace, a tempest of blood and carnage be-
fore that dear-bouglit calm. When, therefore, my text
says that peace was made, it implies that, though un-
equal antagonists, more unequally matched than if a
presumptuous worm, which I could crush with one
stamp of my foot, should raise itself up to bar ray path
and to contend with me, God and man stood face to
face, front to front, in opposition the one to the other.
I pray the sinner to think of his madness in contend-
ing with God. The issue is not doubtful yonder,
where the chaff and the whirlwind meet, or the blast
and the autumn leaves meet, or the potsherd and the
potter meet ; where the unmasted, rudderless wreck
meets the mountain-billow that lifts her up, and whirls
her crashing on the reef, around whiich next moment

334 THE RECONCILER.

there float but ?ome broken timbers. Nor is it doubt-
ful here. Throw down, I pray you, the weapons of
your rebellion ; down on your knees ; yield yourselves
to the love of Christ ; kiss the Son, lest he be angry
and ye perish from the way ; for, who has an arm like
God, or who can tliunder with a voice like his ? Let
the potsherd strive with the potsherds of tlie earth,
but woe to the man that striveth with his Maker.

Animated by fierce despair, man would fight on, and
fight it out to the last. If God is only set before me
in the attitude and act of cursing, I believe I should
curse back again. Such is our nature ; and he is as
ignorant of philosophy as of the gospel, who expects
to conquer my enmity by the terrors of the law, or by
any other argument than the love of God. But does
God appear as reciprocating our enmity, as the enemy
of man ? No ; not even when he condemns him. To
suppose so Avere a great mistake, were to do base
wrong to a gracious God. I know that some have
painted him in dark, and gloomy, and repulsive colors,
imputing to tlie Supreme Being their own vengeful
and malignant passions ; but that terrible spectre, who
has a better claim than Death to be called the King of
Terrors, is not the God of the Bible, is not tlie Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ, is not He in whose name I
call on the sinner to come to the throne of grace, and
throw himself with confidence at the feet of mercy.
I cannot deny that God condemns, but I deny that he
ever condemns willingly. He does not hate the sinner,
though he hates his sins. He loves him ; he loves you.
And if that judge is not considered the enemy of the
pale, guilty, trembling wretcli, on whose doomed, sunken
head, with a voice choked by emotion, and eyes drop-
ping tears that leave no stain on the judge's ermine,

THE KECONCILER. 835

reluctant he pronounces the terrible sentence of death,
is God to be considered the enemy even of liim whom,
after years of long suffering, he condemns to perdition?
No. He has no pleasure in the death of the wicked.
The man who is damned has been his own enemy.
And should such, wliich God forbid, be your awful
fate, I warn you that it will be the bitterest thought
of hell, that God sought to be reconciled to you and
you madly refused. Give me a voice loud enough to
reach the ends of the earth, and I would raise it to
proclaim that God is not willing that any man in that
wide world should perish, but that all should come to
him and live. Do men perish ? Hear the reason, Ye
will not come to me that ye might have life. Would
you be saved ? listen to these gracious words. Him that
cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out. If any man
thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.

II. God desires to be reconciled to his enemies.

He did me wrong ; if tliere are faults on both sides,
he was the first in the transgression ; therefore, if we
are to be reconciled, he, not I, must be tlie first to make
advances ! Such, if you ever undertook the too often
thankless, and sometimes perilous ofiQce of a mediator
between friends whom differences had estranged, you
know to be the law which man lays down. Man stands
upon his dignity. He talks loftily of his honour, and
what he calls justice to himself and the interests of so-
ciety. The injured says of the injurer, and each gene-
rally thinks not himself but the other such. He is to
come to me, I am not to go to him. Indignant at the
proposal of anything that wounds his pride, he spurns
it away, asking. Am I to stand at his door in the humble
attitude of a suppliant, to appear as if I were the

336 THE RECONCILER.

injurer, not the injured ? You may tell him that he
who conquers himself, wins the victory ; you may tell
him, that he who ruleth his own spirit is greater than
he who taketh a city ; you may tell him that it is noble
to make the first advances. No, he says, I w^ill not
meet him even half way ; let him come and acknowl-
edge his offence ; I will not refuse my hand, but he
must ask it ; I am willing to bury the quarrel, but he
must dig the grave.

Strange terms for those to insist on who know the
grace of God, and how our own great debts are for-
given ! If God had so dealt with^us, we should have
gone to hell, every one of us. Yet such are commonly
the lowest, easiest terms on which man agrees to treat
with man. And I have known a mother sternly refuse
to grant a daughter the forgiveness she asked even on
her knees. Come with me into that woman's cottage
when she has received her summons to a bar, where she
herself, as well as all of us, will need forgiveness.
Her last hour is come ; and though in the dim light
of a candle which we hold to her face, it looks firm
and stern even in a dying hour, we think surely she
will relent now, and afford some hope, however faint,
that the spirit that forgives goes to be forgiven. Put-
ting kind neighbours aside, I bend over that gliastly
form, and in the awful presence of death, put her to
the trial. There is no relenting. It is no time for
speaking smooth things ; a soul is at stake ; and in
half an hour she will be in hell or heaven. She has
been plainly told, that unless she forgives, she cannot
be forgiven. Jesus hanging for sinners on the cross,
and praying, Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do ; God entreating the guilty to return
to his bosom, and stooping in love over his bit-

THE llECOXCILER. 337

terest enemies, these are set before her, but in vain.
The tree falls as it leans, as well as lies as it falls.
God may forgive, not she. And, when sent away, as
it were, by a voice saying. She is joined to her idols,
let her alone, I left these horrors, and stepping out
into the calm night, raised my eyes to tlie spangled
sky, how pleasant it was to think of the contrast between
our father there and that iron mother, and how natural
it was to exclaim with David, Let me fall into the
hand of the Lord ; for his mercies are great ; and let
me not fall into the hand of man. Many a star studded
the night's dark vault, but I thought none looked so
bright and beautiful as the blessed promise, Can a
woman forget her sucking child, that she should not
have compassion on tlie son of her womb ? Yea, they
may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have
graven thee upon the palms of my hands.

My ways are not as your ways, neither are my thoughts
as your thoughts, saith the Lord. How strikingly and
blessedly is that illustrated in the peace restored
between God and man ! Who is the first to seek recon-
ciliation here ? Does God stand upon his dignity, his
honour, the justice of the case ? If ever any might, it
was He. But did the great God sit aloft on Ids impe-
rial throne, surrounded by holy angels, saying. Let
these sinners come to me ; the offence was theirs, and
the humiliation must be all their own ? No. He takes
the humiliation to himself, and miglit be supposed to
be the injurer, not tlie injured. Veiling his majesty,
and leaving heaven to seek our door, he stands there,
knocks there, waitL^^ there ; nay, with an infinite kind-
ness and condescension, he goes down, as it were, on
his knees, beseeching us, as if it were a favour done to
him, to be reconciled. " Now then we are ambassa-
15

338 THE RECONCILER.

dors for Christ, as tlioiigh God did beseech you by us :
we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."
How hard are your hearts, if ye can resist such love !
Some talk as if we were saved just because Christ
paid our debt, representing God's share in the transac-
tion as little else than that of a severe, stern, unrelent-
ing creditor, who takes no interest in his imprisoned
debtor beyond letting him out when the surety has
taken up the bond. Is this true ? Is it fair to God ?
True ? It is utterly false. Salvation flows from a
higher source than Calvary. It has its fountain, not
in the cross of the incarnate Son, but in the bosom of
the eternal Father. These hoar hills with their time-
furrowed brows, that ocean which bears on its face no
mark of age, those morning stars which sang together
when our world was born, these old lieavens, are not
so old as the love of God. It dates from eternity.
Eternal ages before the Law was given, or broken, or
satisfied, he loved us. The central truth of tlie Eible,
that on which I lay the greatest stress and rest my
strongest hopes, is this, that God does not love us
because Christ died for us, but tliat Christ died for us
because God loved us. I do not disparage the work
of Christ ; far be such a thought from me. Yet Christ
himself is the gift of divine love, the divine expression
of our Father's desire to be reconciled. The Lord of
angels hanging on a mother's bosom, the Creator of
heaven and earth bending to a humble task, the judge
of all standing accused in the place of common felons,
the Son of his Father's love nailed amid derision to
an ignominious cross, death rudely seizing him, the
dark grave receiving him, we owe to the love of God.
God so loved tlie world, that he gave his only begotten
Son, that whosoever bolievcth in him should not per-

THE RECONCILER. 339

ish, but have everlasting life. What love do we owe
him who so loved us !

III. To make our peace with God, Jesus Christ laid
down his life.

I have seen one who had roughly reckoned up the
cost of the gems, the rubies, pearls, emeralds, diamonds,
that studded the golden arches of an earthly crown,
stand astonished at its value. And yet, in point either
of cost or brilliancy, what is that to the crown any ran-
somed beggar or saved harlot wears in heaven ? Im-
perial diadems are nothing to the crown of glory. In
the sanctuary balances a saint weighs heavier than a
sovereign. And there is more value in the crown of a
redeemed infant, one of these little ones, than in all the
glory of all the holy angels. Jl word made them.
He said, and it was done ; heaven was full of them.
But to make a saint, he who never left his throne to
make or save an angel, descended on our world in the
form of a servant, and, more amazing still, lumg dead
on a cross in the form of a sinner. The price of our
pardon was nothing less than what the apostle calls the
blood of God. He was made sin for us who knew no
sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in
him. To restore peace, and open up a way of reconcilia-
tion, to save us from the perdition of that bottomless
pit, Jesus took our sins upon him, and poured out his
soul unto death.

An ancient historian tells us that, at the siege of
Babylon, Darius condemned to the cross three thou-
sand captives. Another relates how, when Alexander
inflicted long-threatened vengeance on Tyre, he cruci-
fied two thousand prisoners, and that crosses stood on
ter bloody shores thicker than ship masts in her

340 THE RECONCILER.

crowded harbor. And when the Roman let fly his
eagles against Jerusalem, Titus, measuring out to the
Jews the measure tliey liad meted to Jesus, gave them
crosses enough, " good measure, pressed down and
shaken together, and running over." A spectator of
the scenes, the dreadful, tragic scenes, amid which Ju-
dah's sun set in blood for ever, tells that wood was
wanting for crosses, and crosses were wanting for
bodies. Yet had Babylon's, Tyre's, .lerusalem's, all
these crosses been raised to save you, and on each cross
of that forest, not a man, but a dying angel hung, had
all heaven been crucified, here is greater love, a greater
spectacle. God commendeth his love towards us, in
that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

Purchasing our peace at such a price, God has done
more for you and me than for all the universe besides.
Creator of earth and lieaven, he threw suns from his
hand like sparks sliot from the fire, and, as a potter
turns off clay vessels from his wheel, he fashioned tlie
worlds, and sent them away spinning in tlieir orbits ;
but here is a greater work. If Nehemiah's words were
ever specially appropriate to any lips, it was to those
that maintained unbroken silence amid the taunts and
insults of the cross. When they cried, If thou be the
Son of God, come down from the cross, I do not know
that our Lord so much as felt the insult, that in that
hour it troubled him. It might be but a pebble flung
into a storm-tossed ocean, adding nothing to the tur-
moil, nor so much as felt amid the roar and swell of
breakers. It might be but the sting of a miserable in-
sect on the cheek of one who bestrides in battle a fallen
friend, his sliield ringing with blows, and his flashing
blade sw^ceping down tlie foe around him. It might be
but a feather added to that mountain burden of sin and

THE RECONCILER. 341

wrath beneath which Christ's great soul was bowing ;
yet, had it pleased our dying Lord to answer the taunt,
I can fancy him bending from the cross to say, " I am
doing a great work so that I cannot corns down ; 'M
have a world to save, therefore I cannot save myself ;
without shedding of blood is no remission. Poor scof-
fer ! no cross for me, no crown for thee.

Well may we say with Moses, I will turn aside, and
see this great sight. What spectacle so wonderful, so
affecting ? Behold, how he loved us ! Around that
cross let faith fling her eager, joyful arms. Embrace it.
Oh ! clasp it with more tlian a lover's ardor ; in life
and death, cling to it like a drowning man, whom the
waves cannot tear from his hold.

In making our peace with God, Christ had a great
work to do. It is finished ; and ours, like his, closes
not save with life. We may sometimes think of an
aged Christian as one seated on the bank of Jordan in
the serene evening of a holy life, waiting the summons,
looking back on the world without a regret, and for-
ward into eternity without the shadow of a fear. We
fancy him, by the eye of faith, piercing the thick mists
that hang over death's dark flood, and as he descries
the " shining ones " walking on the other shore, we
fancy him stretching out his eager arms and crying?
" Oh, that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly
away and be at rest ! " But the picture is more beau-
tiful than true. In working out their salvation with
fear and trembling, in carrying forward, through the
help of the Holy Spirit, the work of sanctification,
God's people will feel the need of watching and work-
ing to the very end. The corn shakes when it is ripe ;
the fruit drops when it is mellow ; the Christian dies
when his work is done. I sec him, as a soldier, dying

342 THE RECONCILER.

in harness, fighting on to the very last gasp ; as a
servant, he may be found, up to the very hour of his
Master's coming, putting the house in order. Though
the more work done now, the less there is to do at a
less suitable time, it occasionally happens that the
death-bed of the believer is the scene of his hardest
fight, and of Satan's fiercest temptations. Nowhere
has the roaring of the lion sounded more dreadful than
in the valley of the shadow of death. And it is some-
times with sin as with the monster of the deep, when
to the cry, " Stern all," the men who have buried their
lances in its ample sides, seize the oars, and pull rapidly
out of the sweep of that tremendous tail that beats the
ocean till it sounds afar, and churns the blood-stained
waves into crimson foam. Men of undoubted piety
have found sin's dying to be sin's hardest struggles.
It happens with the kingdom of heaven as with a city
the violent take by force ; the hardest fighting may be
in the breach, the battle may rage fiercest where the
city is entered, and just when the prize is to be won.

We can leave the cares of our death to God ; our
business is with present duty. Our work is not finished,
while with some of us it may be little more than begun.
And I may address the most advanced and aged Chris-
tian, in God's words to Joshua, Thou art old and well
stricken in years, and yet there is much land to be pos-
sessed. Sin has still more or less power over you,
and it should have none ; your corruptions have suf-
fered a mortal wound, but they are not dead ; your
affections rise upward to heaven, yet how much are
they held back by the things earth ; though your heart
turns to Christ, like the compass needle to the pole,
how easily is it disturbed, how tremblingly it points to
him ; your spirit has wings, yet how short are its

THE RECONCILER. 843

fliglil ^ and how often, like a half-flcdgcd eaglet has
it to return to its nest on the Rock of Ages ; your
soul is a garden where Christ delights to walk when
the north and south winds blow, to exhale its spices,
yet with many lovely flowers, how many vile weeds
grow there. With a great work to do, and little time
to do it, and that little most uncertain, there is much
need to work, the Spirit aiding, heaven helping us.
Work, work while it is called to-day, looking for your
rest in heaven. Oh, how far short is our holiness of
the lioliness of heaven. So much imperfection, so
many infirmities cleave to the best of us, that I some-
times think that a change must take place at the mo-
ment of death second only to that at the moment of
conversion. There is much sin to be cast off, like a
slough, with this mortal flesh. Saw we the spirit at
its departure, as Elisha saw liis ascending master, we
might see a mantle of infirmity and imperfection
dropped from the chariot that bears it in triumph to
the skies. I have thought that there must be a mys-
terious work done by the Spirit of God in the very
hour of death to form the glorious crown and cope-
stone of all his other labors ; and that, like the Avon-
drous but lovely plant which blows at midnight, grace
comes out in its perfect beauty amid the darkness of
the dying hour. How that is done I do not know.
It takes one whole summer to ripen the fields of corn,
and five hundred years to bring the oak to its full
maturity. But He at wliose almighty word this earth
sprung at once into perfect being, with loaded orchards,
and golden liarvests, and clustering vines, and stately
palms, and giant cedars, man in ripened manhood, and
woman in lier full-blown charms, is able in the twink-
ling of an eye, ere our fingers liave closed tlie fihiiy

344

THE RECONCILER.

orbs, or we have stooped to print one fond last kiss on
the marble brow, to crown the work his grace began.
With him one day is as a thousand years, and a thou*
sand years are as one day. He shall perfect that
whicli concorneth you. He shall bring fortli the head-
stone thereof, with shoutings, crying, Grace, grace

unto it. Now, THEREFORE, UNTO HiM THAT IS ABLE TO
KEEP YOU FROM FALLING, AND TO PRESENT YOU FAULT-
LESS BEFORE THE PRESENCE OF HiS GLORY WITH EXCEED-
ING JOY, TO THE ONLY WISE GOD OUR SaVIOUR, BE GLORY
AND MAJESTY, DOMINION AND POWER, BOTH NOW AND

EVER, Amen.

THE END.

THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE
STAMPED BELOW

AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS

WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN
THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY
WILL INCREASE TO 50 CENTS ON THE FOURTH
DAY AND TO $1.00 ON THE SEVENTH DAY
OVERDUE.

FEB 28 1934,

MAR 41J*«

10f-eb'53FW

pc-C'D l-D

p^8 3 \^^

d-k A R (ifT^n 1 0 "

24M&"*

REC

AUG 3 2 i^u.

LD21-100m-7,'33

VB 33725

101762

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Texts

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Christ and the inheritance of the saints"

See other formats